Never
by Rinso
Summary: Sequel to my story "Always". The First Wizarding War is over. Voldemort and the Death Eaters are defeated. Lily, Severus and the rest of our heroes can finally look to a brighter future. But there is a storm coming that none of them are prepared for. Harry Potter AU set soon after the end of the First Wizarding War.
1. Message from Rinso

_Message from Rinso:_

 _Hey everyone!_

 _So. I am publishing a new story. As it also says in the description, it's a sequel to my first story,"Always". Due to the nature of "Always" – an AU about the end of the First Wizarding War in the 80s – I recommend reading it first. In the first few chapters of "Never" I have made the effort to weave in some explanations about some of the things that happened in "Always", but even so I believe that a lot of new readers might find it confusing – if not in terms of plot/events, then in terms of character interactions and relationships. Reading "Always" first WILL clear away any such confusion, so take this shameless plug in consideration when starting "Never"._

 _In case any of my old readers is looking at this, well, some of you might remember that there was a point in which I almost abandoned "Always" and didn't return to it for what was, I believe, a little more than a year._

 _I do not want to repeat this. I will do my complete best to deliver an update every week. But at the moment of this publication the story is not finished yet so I can't, in clear conscience, make an Unbreakable Vow that I will manage to do so EVERY Tuesday. But I will do my best._

 _I have wanted to do this sequel since before I finished "Always". I have a lot of fun writing it. I hope you all will have a lot of fun reading it too. Fair warning I never gave for "Always": before you start, if you don't like the occasional use of swearing and violence, characters being bloody miserable at times and some of them dying over the course of the story, as well as full AU stories that have nothing to do with the events in canon, then "Never" might not be for you. But if you don't mind, or even like such things, then I hope you will enjoy this journey..._

 _Love to all,_

 _Rinso_


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **July 30, 1982, London**

The thunder that boomed through the night awoke her. A great summer storm had washed over London that evening, and apparently it wasn't completely done yet. Catherine Turner looked up from her bed and saw that the window of her room was slightly ajar. She decided that if another storm came during the night, the wind might knock it open or even break the glass. And then her dad and her mum would be mad. Catherine was ten, but she knew that her family had little money. They couldn't afford a new glass for the window. Besides, she didn't want the rain to pour into her room.

So she got up from her bed, throwing the light blanket aside and padded to the window. As she got near it, a white-blue lightning flashed in the distant clouds and she saw her reflection on the glass, in her pajamas, her red hair shaggy and her eyes sleepy. Then another thunder struck.

Catherine reached for the handle of the window, ready to slam it shut and then she saw the man.

The Turners lived in a flat on the second floor of a three-story house. She knew that on the other side of the street there was a pub, its neon sign glowing in the dark, coloring the wet pavement in hues of teal and orange. Their house was looking at the backside of the pub, so the sign was not visible from her room, but she had walked past it lots of times.

The man was standing there, his back almost touching the wall of the pub.

Catherine knew that men came and went from the pub all the time, well into the late hours of the night and way past her bedtime. But he looked different somehow.

She leaned forward, face almost touching the glass of her window and stared at him. He was tall, taller than her dad. Another lightning illuminated the night and for a second she saw that he had long black hair tied behind his head and had a black official-looking jacket that looked a bit like the one her dad wore at her Aunt Marlene's second wedding. He was leaning on a cane but did not look old at all, so Catherine decided that there was something wrong with his legs.

Catherine was not sure what was so strange about him, but it was as if something told her that this man was not like the regulars that visited the pub at night. Perhaps it was the way he was staring intently at the backdoor of the pub. It was as if he was waiting for something or someone.

He was standing completely motionless and Catherine, sleepiness gone, couldn't tear her eyes off him. Then she heard faint noises coming from the pub, as if people were shouting. She gulped and opened the window slightly so she could hear better.

Someone was definitely shouting inside the pub. The man on the street tensed, as if he had expected it. Then suddenly the door at the back of the pub crashed open and a man ran out. He was moving as if he was completely panicked.

He never saw the other man, the one with the cane and the black jacket. But he had seen him.

He moved forward, lifted the cane up and swung it almost like a bat, smacking the running man right in the face. He cried out in pain, tumbled into the air and fell with a splash into a puddle. The long-haired man stepped towards him and put one of his feet on the other's chest. It looked like he really had a slight limp but that had not stopped him from felling the other man with ease.

Catherine's mouth gaped open. What was happening? Was the man with the cane going to mug the one who had tried to escape from the pub? She could feel her heart beating faster and faster. What was she supposed to do? Should she go and wake her parents? Or go to bed and pretend she never saw what had happened? She had heard her mum say to dad once that their neighborhood was bad, but hadn't understood completely. Did that mean it was dangerous? That man out there sure looked dangerous. He looked like a bad guy from her dad's scary action movies that her mum forbade her to watch.

But curiosity had her in its grasp. She knew she should move and step away from the window but she couldn't force herself to do so.

She opened the window a bit more and heard the man on the ground groaning in pain. Another lightning flashed and Catherine saw blood oozing from his nose and mouth.

"Snape, you half-blood bastard!" he cried. "You broke my nose!"

Then the door of the pub crashed open again and Catherine saw a man, this one with shaggy blonde hair and a beard, and a black-skinned woman running out, moving towards the one with the cane (was he called Snape?) and his victim. She heard footsteps from the other end of the street and another man came running. Were these three going to help the man on the ground? Snape didn't seem afraid of their presence. The blonde man reached Snape first and stopped, putting his hands on his knees and panting loudly.

"Good one, boss!" he laughed. "Whacked him right over the head."

"Igor Karkaroff," Snape said to the man bleeding on the ground, "In the name of the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest."

Catherine gasped loudly. What did he mean, the Ministry of Magic? Was there such a Ministry? Did that mean that those people could do magic? Or were they just magicians? Neither Snape nor this Igor Karkaroff had done any magic.

Then Snape, the blonde bearded man, the black woman and the one who had come running from the far end of the street all turned their heads towards her window. They had heard her. And now they saw her.

Catherine had never been as afraid as she was in that moment.

She knew she had to instantly run to her parents, but before she could even move, Snape produced a straight black stick from his sleeve and pointed it at her.

" _Obliviate!_ " he said.

In the morning Catherine awoke. She was surprised to see that during the night the window had opened itself. It had rained again because the floor near the window was all wet. She was relieved that the glass was not broken. She didn't remember waking up during the night, so the storm must not have been that bad.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **July 31, 1982, Hogsmeade**

"I hate you," Narcissa Malfoy hissed as she opened her eyes.

Lily laughed, her arms crossed in front her chest. "Come on!" she commanded, "Get up, it's past nine."

The blonde woman closed her eyes and crawled back beneath the covers of her bed. "No."

Lily shrugged. _If that's the way you want it…_ She strode towards the window and sharply jerked the curtains open. The guest bedroom was suddenly filled with warm sunlight. Narcissa screeched as if she was a vampire. _Oh, she really isn't a morning person,_ Lily thought then frowned. _Wait, what is she doing with that pillow?_

A moment later she found out.

Fifteen minutes later, Lily came down the stairs followed by the scowling Narcissa.

"Hey, we did agree last night," Lily reminded her, throwing a glance at the glaring blonde behind her. "And we promised to help each other for the birthdays. I helped _you_ in June!"

"And I told you then, and I'm telling you now, I was going to have the house elves do the work. Not us," Narcissa retorted, "And also, I told you then and I'm telling you now, get a house elf and stop torturing me. Get two, if needed."

"I'm not torturing you, Cinderella," Lily rolled her green eyes. "I just need a bit of help with preparing the cake and the meals."

"But why does it have to be _us?!_ " Narcissa wailed.

Lily sighed. This was going to be one of those long mornings…

Once they entered the kitchen, Lily's mind snapped to work. _Today, Harry's birthday. Goals, make it perfect, be sure the guests are happy, and make yourself look good cause he's coming too. Simple_. As long as she managed to put the blonde to work.

Anticipating Narcissa's next move a few hours earlier, she had already checked on the boys and could attest that both Harry and Draco were sound asleep and everything was fine. She grinned when Narcissa tried to get out of the cooking by claiming that it would be best to go check on the kids and shot her argument down. Now it was time to get to business.

They were going to start with the cake so it could cool off until lunch and in the mean time they were going to do the other meals. Lily began preparing the oven and the necessary dishes, bowls and pans while Narcissa went to the fridge to get the ingredients out. Lily noticed that she still was unsure around it. She could not deny that the blonde witch had managed to come a long way in accepting the muggle-born in the last half a year… but sometimes her pureblood sense of superiority still reared its head, most notably after Lily had moved in Hogsmeade and started filling her house with what Narcissa derisively called "those odd muggle contraptions".

She couldn't comprehend even the most basic everyday chore or task without the use of magic… or _something_ magical, in the case of the scores of house elves who dwelt inside Malfoy Manor and took care of its masters. But Lily was born in a family of muggles down in Cokeworth and until her magic started to manifest itself and she met Sev, she was just an ordinary little girl who lived in an ordinary house. A part of her would always hold on to that.

And so after she had purchased the new home for her and Harry, she had been determined to get her hands on a lot of those everyday appliances that wizards were so confused by. Of course, that had come with its own set of challenges. Hogsmeade was a wizarding village, a place without any muggles… and as such it didn't even have running electricity. After all, who needs utility poles and power lines when they could just flicker a wand and start a fire or wash the dishes?

Surprisingly, Narcissa had been of help here. In those months after the events that the _Daily Prophet_ now called 'The Battle for Hogwarts', Narcissa had come in contact with her sister Andromeda and the two had rekindled their relationship. _Or, rather, they started building it from scratch._ Lily had been _shocked_ to learn that Narcissa had a sister other than the murderous and, thank Merlin, dead Bellatrix Lestrange. Andromeda was older and so Lily never met her in Hogwarts, and she couldn't recall Sirius ever mentioning a third cousin. The House of Black was one of the oldest, richest and most arrogant wizard families in all of Britain, maybe even the world, and so Lily found it strange that she had never heard about a member of their clan.

As it turned out, when Narcissa explained everything, it was because Andromeda was _no longer_ a part of that family. She had married a muggle-born wizard and so she was banished from their ancestral home in London, all records of her were erased and her portrait in the family tree was destroyed. When Lily heard this, she wished could be surprised but all she had felt was a dim disgust. The Blacks had been among Voldemort's supporters during the war and what had happened with Narcissa's sister was to be expected from people like them. Lily had been enormously proud of her friend when she reached out to Andromeda and expressed a desire to mend fences.

And as it turned out, knowing a few muggle-born wizards had its advantages. Ted Tonks, Andromeda's husband, was similar to Lily in that he, too, remembered his muggle upbringing and didn't want to leave it behind. And so when Lily moved into her new house, Narcissa and Andromeda sent her Ted, with the stern instructions to help Lily settle in, even though she, in Narcissa's own exasperated words, was too obsessive with "those odd muggle contraptions". Ted, with a little assistance from Sev who came to help on his own and also knew this and that about muggle life, set up a generator in Lily's backyard shed and used it to power all her odd muggle contraptions.

Lily smiled at the memory as she was preparing the cake's batter. She liked both Ted and Andromeda a lot, and their daughter Nymphadora (who insisted to be called just Dora) was utterly adorable. The Tonks family was, of course, invited to Harry's birthday, but unlike Narcissa and Draco who came last night and slept here so the blonde could grudgingly help with the preparations, they were coming to lunch with the rest of the guests.

A few hours later the food was almost ready, the cake was sitting proudly in the fridge, the boys were awake and watching the Quidditch play set that Narcissa had bought for Harry – the gift was supposed to be given today, but there was no explaining this to her giddy son and so the wrapping paper was torn last night and the play set had been displayed in all its opulence ever since. And it was a magnificent thing, indeed. It represented a large, intricately wrought stadium under a dome of paper-thin, translucent crystal so nothing could fall out and get lost, or worse, considering the fact that it was made for small children… Miniatures of players on brooms zig-zagged across the stadium, somehow looking even better and more glittery and colorful than the real men and women who practiced this sport. They were evading small bludgers, they swung their bats left and right, and there were two seekers and a buzzing, tiny snitch made of enchanted gold that glowed like a firefly even during the day. The lucky child who owned this _thing_ could start a match with a flicker of an ivory switch, and after the end of each game the players' attires magically changed colors so they could represent many different teams. The whole thing even had a cheering crowd inside of it. Harry and Draco were completely enraptured by the play set. Lily suspected that if James was alive, he would have been in love with it too.

She smiled as she passed by the living room and saw the boys sitting in front of the play set. Now it was time for the final part of her masterfully executed – so far – plan.

As Lily disrobed and stepped under the shower, she couldn't help but reflect on how her life had changed in just a little over a half year. Last July there was a war going on, she and James had already gone to hiding in Godric's Hollow… now everything was different. Sometimes she was caught by surprise in how easily life had moved on after the war ended. Being able to go out in the streets and see witches and wizards who were not cowed by fear anymore was strange at first but Lily had adjusted.

 _There was a great deal of adjusting, all right…_ she thought as she rinsed her thick red hair. Not only had the Wizarding World changed, but so had Lily's life. She had mourned James and all the friends who were gone, and she had moved on, no longer shackled by sorrow. Harry was growing every day, getting better at walking and talking, no longer a baby but a proper toddler. True to his word, Sev had remained in her life, though with his job he didn't have the time to visit as often as she would have wanted.

The thought of Sev's job made her frown. Not only because she was concerned for his safety – even though she _was_ – but it also reminded her of _her_ job that was about to begin in September. She actually was going to go to Hogwarts in a few days so Dumbledore could introduce her officially to the rest of the faculty and try and explain anything he might have missed back when he offered her the position. _I still haven't found a babysitter for Harry,_ she thought sullenly. In truth James had left Lily with enough savings to last years without _needing_ to find a job, but she preferred not to burn through her money in vain, especially since she was already getting too antsy sitting on her hands and doing nothing but taking care of Harry and going out with Narcissa. Not to mention that with Horace's retirement and McGonagall's tragic death back in November, Hogwarts was in need of help. Whether _she_ was the person that could help was debatable at best to Lily, but somehow Dumbledore had convinced her.

That was the main reason why she chose Hogsmeade for her and Harry's new home after she sold the cottage in Godric's Hollow – this way she could always be close to her little boy. She realized that distance was not truly a factor for people like her, what with the Floo, apparation, portkeys and what-have-you, but she liked the thought of being in a close physical proximity to her son. _That, and I didn't want to live in the place where he died._

Lily could hear the shrill childish voices of Harry and Draco downstairs, as well as Narcissa's, when she stepped out of the bathroom. She sighed and began to dry and dress herself.

When she climbed down and joined everyone in the living room, Narcissa looked her over and smirked.

"What?" Lily asked, feeling somewhat self-conscious. The blonde witch was a true queen when it came to primping and clothing… and make-up, and walking in ridiculous shoes that would make any muggle model green with envy… Did her smirk mean that Lily had done an abysmal job?

She looked down at herself. Was her light flowery dress appropriate? Were the shoes right? Did the colors match?

"Nothing," Narcissa said. "I like the dress."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Then why did you smirk? Come on, you did it again! Is it something on my face? Tell me!"

"There's nothing wrong with your face," Narcissa sighed and slightly cocked her head. "I think there actually may be some hope for you since I see you've paid heed to my advice on make-up."

"Very funny," Lily deadpanned.

"It's just…" Narcissa hesitated. "You do realize why you've dolled yourself up, don't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Lily blushed. _I haven't_ dolled myself up _, I just want to look good._

"I mean that I'm sure that _this_ ," she gestured vaguely at Lily's outfit and make-up, "is not for my benefit, or my sister and her family's, what's left for Lupin or that sordid old Longbottom woman." The blonde smiled. "But I bet I could think of a guest that would appreciate it when he comes. Hmm… who could he be?" Then someone knocked on the door and she grinned evilly. "Could that be _him?_ "

"It's not like that," Lily rolled her eyes as both women went to open. Although the thought of him coming was quite a pleasant one... It wasn't as if she didn't care about the other guests, but she and Sev had not seen each other in almost three weeks. _He's probably overworking himself again._

As it turned out, it was not Sev but the Tonks family.

Ted bellowed out a greeting and hugged both Lily and Narcissa. Lily didn't know a lot of people who could be as hearty as him. Andromeda and Dora were not as boisterous but both looked equally cheery.

"But where's the birthday boy?" Ted laughed and in just a second he got his answer, as Harry and Draco rushed grinning from the living room on their small legs, crying, "Cousin Dora! Cousin Dora!" over and over again.

Lily couldn't help but laugh. Ever since Narcissa had told Harry that he and Draco were actually related through some great-aunt who had married a Potter decades ago, he and the young Malfoy heir were adamant that they were cousins – even if the blood relation itself was not actually _that_ close. And that apparently made Andromeda's daughter a cousin too.

Though older – she was going to start studying in Hogwarts in just two years – Dora was a good sport about it. She giggled happily at the sight of her "little cousins", which made her hair change color from brown to an almost glowing yellow – much to the toddlers' shrill delight. Then she stepped forward, an oblong present in her hands, and said, "Happy birthday, Harry!"

To Harry's immense joy and Lily's slight exasperation, it turned out that the present from the Tonks family was a brand new toy broomstick, to replace the one Harry had both outgrown and broken. Ted and Dora took the boys to the yard to test it out, while Lily, Narcissa and Andromeda remained in the living room, enjoying a brief respite and a jug of cold peach juice.

"How you've been?" Lily asked Andromeda.

The older woman shrugged. She had the good looks of the House of Black, that much was certain, though her dark hair contrasted with Narcissa's fair coloring. Though the thing that set her apart from every other member of that family was the _kindness_ in her brown eyes. Even Narcissa and Sirius, who were among Lily's best friends, had a bit of a vicious streak – it just manifested in different ways – and the rest of the Blacks were Death Eaters or supporters of theirs. But Andromeda carried herself with an air of innate goodness that appealed to people. "We're good," she smiled. "Ted is not that busy anymore, thank Merlin. I was beginning to forget how it felt to spend the summer with my whole family."

Lily knew what she meant. Ted was a healer in St. Mungo's and during the war the hospital had seen a heart-wrenching amount of injured and sick people.

"I'm just glad your husband was not on shift when _he_ escaped," Narcissa chimed in and her sister nodded, then turned to Lily.

"Do you know if Severus is closer to catching him?" she asked. "If you could have seen Ted's face when he found out..." she shook her head, "I mean, who does that? What sort of a person attacks a healer who is trying to help them?"

Lily sighed. "I haven't seen Sev in a few weeks now," she admitted. "He's coming too, I'm sure he'll tell us if he's close."

Andromeda snorted, "Yeah, like those Ministry types love anything more than saying "it's confidential" when people ask them questions…"

Lily couldn't help but chuckle. "Sev is not a "Ministry type", Andromeda," she said, "He actually wasn't sure if he even wanted to accept the job."

"Well, _someone_ 's got to do it," Andromeda said mildly. "Once they've caught the last of the scum, it will all be truly over."

Lily couldn't really disagree with her. Still, the somber tone of the conversation silenced the three women and for a few moments they simply sat there, each unsure of what to say and vaguely aware of the three children having fun with Ted and the broom in the yard.

"I made the cake," Narcissa said abruptly, getting the attention of Lily and Andromeda.

"I'm sorry, Cissy, I must be hearing things," Andromeda smirked. "I thought you said you've made a cake?"

"Not a cake. _The_ cake," Narcissa frowned at her sister.

"But you can't cook," Andromeda pointed out smilingly.

"What do you mean I can't? I just choose not to!"

"You didn't even know how to clean the strawberries," Lily interfered.

"Traitor," Narcissa grumbled and sipped her juice.

They continued on like that until the rest of the guests started to arrive. Remus came soon after the Tonks family, carrying a big cuddly toy, made of soft, brown plush and representing a stag. He looked a bit embarrassed with his gift, even though Harry liked it well enough.

"I was wondering what to get, then I saw it, and it reminded me of James," Remus said sheepishly to Lily after that, as she led him to the living room to have a glass of juice before the others came and they all sat down to lunch.

Lily was aware that Harry couldn't possibly understand the meaning behind the big toy, but she thought it was very sweet of Remus to still remember James' Patronus. She was also glad to see him looking much healthier than the last time the two of them met. He had spent a few months traveling across Europe after the war and the trip apparently had agreed with him. _Now, if I can somehow also make him stop smoking…_

Remus squinted his eyes in confusion when the both of them entered the living room and his gaze focused on Andromeda.

She raised a dark eyebrow, stood up and reached a hand towards him.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, "Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa's older sister."

"Narcissa's…?" Remus sounded confused for a heartbeat, then he recovered and apparently remembered his manners because he lightly took Andromeda's hand and shook it gently. "Remus Lupin. I'm sorry, I just… I was a friend of your cousin and you caught me off-guard."

"Oh, I know," Andromeda said as they both sat down. Lily and Narcissa exchanged confused glances over their shoulders. "You must be Moony, right?"

"How do you know about that name?" Remus sounded slightly startled and very curious.

"Sirius was my favorite relative, Mr. Lupin," Andromeda smiled sadly, then frowned and turned to Narcissa. "I'm sorry, Cissy, I know we're better these days, but back then…"

"I'm not offended," Narcissa shrugged. "Back then I was a snotty brat and you thought you were too good to stomach any of us. So," she gave Remus a crooked smile, "What were you going to say about _Moony_ here?"

"Well…" Andromeda hesitated, "It's not like I know a lot, I just remember Sirius throwing a tantrum at Uncle Orion and Regulus once, saying that Prongs, Wormtail and Moony were, and I quote, "much cooler than you lot". The "lot" being us, of course, and later, after he was punished, he explained to me what "cool" meant and that "Prongs, Wormtail and Moony" were his best friends' nicknames. What was his? He told me, but I don't remember."

Remus laughed lightly at Andromeda's story. "Padfoot. He was Padfoot," he told her softly. "I knew he didn't get along with his relatives, but I didn't know you also had that problem."

"Well, with me, it was a bit different. My husband – I believe you can hear him outside with the _other_ children," she rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile, "is a muggle-born, much like Lily, and my family was _mortified_ when they learned that we had married in secret. Before they banished me," she wasn't even mildly fazed by Remus' raised eyebrows, "I actually considered taking Sirius with me and far away from Grimmauld Place, but… he was still a child, and me and Ted were going to have a difficult time just by ourselves."

"Not to mention that it would have been kidnapping," Narcissa said dryly. "Father and Uncle Orion would have had the whole Ministry after you and Ted."

"That's true too," Andromeda admitted and drank her juice.

To her shame, Lily had never even thought about what it would mean for Remus to meet another Black so abruptly. He and Narcissa were cordial these days, but she hadn't even considered Andromeda's presence today. Luckily, everything had turned out alright… but listening to Andromeda talking about Sirius and the turmoils they had had to face in their home, she was reminded once again of her own sister.

She had invited Petunia and her family to Harry's birthday, and that, in and of itself, had caused her some effort. Knowing that her big sister would probably have abhorred the very notion of receiving an invitation by the way of an owl or _anything_ magical, Lily had to go and locate a phone booth in a small muggle town south of Hogsmeade and call Petunia... only to be told that her sister could not attend because her Dudders was suffering from a terrible flu. In August. Lily had pretended to buy the flimsy excuse... but next year she was going to think twice before bothering to invite her sister. If Petunia wanted to stay out of her life so badly, she was welcome to do so. Even so, a part of Lily was saddened that she had never even gotten to meet her own nephew.

The arrival of Augusta Longbottom and little Neville tore her out of her brooding thoughts. In truth, Frank and Alice's son was not what she had expected. Neville was of an age with Harry and Draco, but he couldn't walk or talk as confidently. Lily remembered that last year, before she and James had to go in hiding, she and Alice had exchanged a few letters, sharing stories about their children, and Lily couldn't recall her mentioning anything about him being so shy. Neville's grandmother compensated for his timid nature, however. Augusta Longbottom was an imposing, elderly woman, dressed in a dark green gown and wearing a heavy, overly-ornamented hat. She huffed when she saw the Black sisters and latched herself to Remus instead.

"I found a photo of theirs," she said to him, "Frank and Alice were there, and so were you, Mr. Lupin."

Lily knew of the photo Mrs. Longbottom spoke of. Last year Dumbledore had insisted that the Order was to take a common picture. Everyone was there. She and James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, Dumbledore himself, McGonagall, Hagrid, Aberforth, Emmeline Vance, Edgar Bones, Alastor Moody, the Prewett brothers, and Alice and Frank. After the war ended, Lily had destroyed her copy of the photo. The thought of all those who were gone had been hard, even months later, and she couldn't bear to look at their faces, smiling and still alive. _It's not as if I need a picture to remember them_.

"Frank always spoke highly of you, Mr. Lupin," Mrs. Longbottom said, "Said you would make a fine Auror. It's a pity you never considered it."

Remus looked uncomfortable by the woman's attention, so Lily said, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, Mrs. Longbottom, but Sev..."

"Oh, I read all about Severus Snape and his "special task force" in the _Prophet,_ " Augusta Longbottom snorted with obvious derision. "Sending a Death Eater to catch the Death Eaters. Ha! What would Fudge think of next?"

Lily's expression froze. Narcissa noticed it and opened her mouth to say something but thankfully the situation was salvaged by Ted and the children who chose that exact moment to get back into the house. Dora led Harry and Draco to meet Neville. The poor child looked rather startled by his peers to Lily. She hoped everything turned alright today.

Lily glanced at the grandfather clock then at the hallway that led to the door. Sev was still missing, but it wouldn't do to make the other guests wait. It was time for lunch anyway.

They all moved to the backyard. Ted and Remus conjured a table, chairs and a large cloth pavilion to keep them in the shade while they ate. Lily, Narcissa and Andromeda started bringing out the food from the kitchen. Augusta Longbottom didn't move or offer to help.

They had already finished with the salad and were well on their way through the roast with baked potatoes when Sev finally arrived.

She hurried through the house to open only to stop for a moment and make sure she was presentable. Fluffing her hair with her palms she took a deep breath and opened the door.

 _Well... that's... unexpected._ Sev was dressed so unusually that she actually had to eye him head to toe to take it all in. His long black hair was tied in a tight ponytail. He had donned on a light blazer and underneath he wore a grey shirt. He was leaning slightly on his cane and when he gave her a small half-smile, Lily realized she had been _staring_ at him for at least a few seconds. She felt a blush creeping towards her face and moved to act.

"Hey, Sev," she smiled at him and moved to hug him, careful not to knock the cane out of his hands. "Sorry for gawking at you," she added when they drew apart. "It's just... you look so _different._ "

His face registered confusion for a split second before he eased into his classic disdainful half-smile. "Why, yes, Lily, I must be positively _dashing_ ," he sneered.

She felt a sudden pang of aggravation at his attempt of self-deprecation. "You are," she smiled at him. _That_ shut him up and he frowned slightly. Lily grinned at her victory. _Besides, he actually does look good like this,_ she noted. The ponytail, especially, was so drastically different than the way he usually let his hair hang around his face, but it actually accentuated his sharp features in a rather handsome manner. The blazer also looked well on his tall, lean frame.

Lily took him by the hand and led him into the house, towards the backyard.

"I missed you," she told him softly.

"I'm sorry," Sev admitted, looking sideways at her. "We are close to catching him and the past month was quite hectic." He looked around before he continued, "We were in London last night. A mission. Hence, the outfit," he gestured vaguely at himself, "I didn't have time to go home and change. I came straight from the Ministry."

"Poor Sev," she frowned. "Come, let's get you something cold to drink and something to eat then."

"What about Harry's gift?" Sev asked.

"You brought a gift?" Lily asked, perplexed. He didn't have anything but the cane with him.

"Of course," Sev huffed. "I simply shrunk it. It's right here, in my pocket. I didn't want the fine folk of Hogsmeade," he grunted with slight contempt that Lily didn't really find terribly amusing this time, "to stare at me with that big, bright, shiny box in my hands. They would have probaby thought..."

"That you're going to a toddler's birthday party?" Lily finished for him and smiled. "What did you get him?" she asked, praying it wasn't a second broomstick.

"A big set of alphabet blocks," Sev answered, sounding very pleased with himself.

He was determined to make Harry interested in at least _something_ else besides quidditch and flying brooms. Lily was on his side, but knew her own son well enough to realize that Sev's quest was doomed. He never stopped trying, though.

"You can give to him after you've rested and had a bite," she said.

Once they got into the yard, Harry looked up from his high folding chair, his green eyes momentarily found Sev and he yelled, "Dada!" cheerily.

Lily could physically feel Sev's awkwardness, and she noticed it on the faces of the guests too. _He doesn't remember James,_ she realized with a tinge of sadness. _Not anymore._ She decided that there was no point in correcting Harry that Sev was not his father in front of everyone and so she decided to simply move on. She seated Sev between Narcissa and herself, and as far away from Mrs. Longbottom as possible.

"So, Severus," Ted asked a bit later as they continued with the meal, "Is there any progress with your investigations? Any news about him?"

Sev leaned back on his chair and let his fork down to take a sip of white wine. "Well, Ted," he said slowly, "you know I'm not really supposed to discuss this..."

"Told you so!" Andromeda whispered loudly as she elbowed Narcissa and Lily had to force herself not to giggle.

Sev glared at the older Black sister and cleared his throat. "Well," he drawled. "If you're all so _curious_ , I suppose I could let something slip away," and just like that he had everyone's attention, even Augusta's. "It's going to be all over the _Prophet_ tomorrow anyway, so I see no point in hiding it." He eyed everyone and leaned forward. "We captured Igor Karkaroff last night. He was hiding in London. We have reasons to suspect he might have been in contact with Lestrange."

"Really?" Ted looked at him eagerly. "Well done, Severus! I hope you'll get that son of a bitch soon!"

"Ted!" Andromeda exclaimed in horror. "Language!"

"Oh!" Ted looked at Dora and his face reddened with embarrassment. His daughter, on the other hand, cackled with glee at her father's outburst, involuntary changing her hair color once more.

Lily wanted to hear _everything_ Sev had to say (especially since he had been _hunting Death Eaters just last night!_ ), but just then she heard a rapid knocking on the front door. She frowned and went to see who it was.

 _Could it be Petunia?_ she wondered. But no, that was not possible – her sister had declined the invitation before Lily could even begin giving her directions to Hogsmeade. The knocking sounded again, urgent and impatient as she hurried down the hallway.

Lily opened the door and almost stumbled back in surprise. Before her stood Kendra Shacklebolt. The tall black-skinned woman was one of the members of Sev's Auror team and she looked the part. Her leather uniform and the brown overcoat above it made her stick out like a sore thumb in the rural, sunny Hogsmeade.

"Good day, Ma'am," Shacklebolt nodded at her. "Is the boss here? He told us he'd be at this address today."

"Sev? Oh. Yes, he's here." Lily moved aside and gestured for the Auror to come in. "It's my son's birthday," she said and looked at the other woman. If Sev and his team had captured Karkaroff last night, then Kendra Shacklebolt was probably also tired and hungry. "Would you like to join us for lunch?"

Shacklebolt shook her head. "Thank you, Ma'am but I'm here on business. Have to speak with the boss right away, if possible."

As they exited at the yard, Lily was amused to see that Sev had squatted in front of Harry's chair and was trying to coerce him into finishing his vegetables. Harry, on the other hand, was tyrannically insisting it was time for the cake. Sev looked up when he glimpsed them and his black eyes squinted at Shacklebolt. He got up with a barely audible groan and reached for the cane that was left propped at the back of his chair.

Sev nodded at the Auror to enter into the house and for the next minute or so, Lily could hear only muffled voices, being unable to discern anything in particular until Sev muttered an angry _What?!_ followed by more hushed talking.

When he finally returned to the yard with Shacklebolt behind him, he looked at Lily, his face twisted into a grimace of regret.

"I'm sorry, Lily," he said, "but I have to leave. There's been a development."


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **July 31, 1982, Azkaban**

Severus Snape was seething with frustration at the thought of Fudge's careless pigheadedness as he and his team were watching the island growing bigger and bigger on the horizon. They could see the angular walls of the prison clearly now.

A large wave crashed into the boat's prow and sent spurts of salty water into the air. Back in Hogsmeade the weather had been sunny and warm, almost to the point of dislike for Severus. But out here it was as if the misery of Azkaban was seeping out from the stony ramparts of the prison fortress and was tainting the surrounding world. _There are no sunny days at Azkaban_ , he thought idly _._

He glanced behind his shoulder and eyed his team. Dawlish was sitting down with a sour expression on his clean-shaven face. Next to him Robards looked his complete opposite, long-haired and bearded, somehow managing to roll a smoke between his fingers without letting the tobacco scatter by the boat's rocking. Shacklebolt was rechecking her gear, always wanting to be prepared for the worst.

"Won't be long now," Severus told them.

"Sure thing, boss," Gawain Robards shrugged nonchalantly as he lit his smoke.

"Why are you so keen on interfering with the Minister interrogating him anyway?" Dawlish asked Snape with a slight frown.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Back in February when he had decided to accept Fudge's offer to join the Auror Office and form a task force that was to hunt down the few Death Eaters who had managed to escape justice and vanish after the battle at Hogwarts, he had known that the Aurors would not greet him as one of their own with open arms. But even so he had rarely been as annoyed as he was by John Dawlish; the man felt the stubborn need to question Severus' every decision… but if Severus had to be fair, once an explanation was provided, Dawlish never disobeyed orders or stood in his way. _He doesn't trust a Death Eater, even a former one, that's all._ He suspected that Shacklebolt felt similarly, though she didn't let it show and one had to look hard for the signs. Robards seemed like he didn't give a shit as long as the job got done and they caught dark wizards.

So Severus swallowed the desire to lash out with a scathing remark and simply said, "I have no problem with Fudge interrogating him. But he shouldn't have gone to Azkaban just because Karkaroff demanded to speak with him. They could have transferred him to the Ministry."

"He wants to get this wrapped quickly," Dawlish shook his head, "Lestrange has managed to slip away too many times already."

"Agreed. But the risk is bigger than I'd like."

"What risk?" Robards cut into the conversation. "What can those buggers do, locked up in there with the dementors?"

"I just have a bad feeling about this," Snape shrugged.

Soon the boat reached the prison's dock. Severus fought back a grunt of discomfort when he had to put his weight on his bad leg as they climbed off the boat. In case he turned out to be a forgetful dunderhead, the leg and the scars on his chest were a constant reminder of the battle he had taken part of back in November. The battle in which he, Lily and Dumbledore had ended the Dark Lord's reign of terror.

 _Pity that not everyone took the hint,_ Severus thought darkly as he and his team started walking up the ancient steps that led to the main gate of the prison. Azkaban was old, built as a seaside fortress almost a thousand years ago, when muggle kings and wizard warlords alike had waged bloody wars against their enemies at sea and on land. In the more contemporary, civilized times, it had begun to serve as a prison. Severus glanced up and ahead, his eyes drinking the sight of the looming black walls of what was, without a doubt, the worst place in the whole of Britain. _Even without the dementors it would have been near impossible to escape from here, surrounded by sea and foul weather on all sides._ As if conjured by his thoughts, a gust of cool, salty wind swooped down and rustled the Aurors' heavy coats. Snape took a deep breath and continued on.

He finally saw the guards on their post in front of the prison's gate. When they noticed the four Aurors approaching, one rushed towards them and the other shouted something towards the patrol on the jutting rampart above the gate. Severus could feel eyes peering at them.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," Severus said as he showed his rosette with the Auror sigil to the guard. The words still tasted unfamiliar and slightly unpleasant on his tongue, but one had to adjust and do what was needed. "We brought in the latest inmate last night."

"Sir," the guard nodded at him. "Minister Fudge arrived to interrogate the prisoner already."

"I know," Severus forced his voice to remain calm. _Damn Fudge, the fucking fool._ "We won't interfere with his interrogation, but I would still like to oversee it. The prisoner should be considered dangerous. Did the Minister bring his personal security?"

"Only his aide, sir," the guard shook his head. "He said he was in a hurry."

Severus literally had to tear his gaze from the oaf's face and take a deep, deep breath. With the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Robards raising his eyebrows and Shacklebolt driving a hand through her short hair; Dawlish stood impassive but even his eyes seemed to glimmer with surprise.

 _And not only has the nitwit waltzed in here without his security, I now have to suffer that pink toad too?_ What evil had Severus committed that he nowadays had to atone by dealing with such suffocating stupidity?

"Alright," Snape said very calmly when he recovered. "We are going in."

The guard opened his mouth as if to object but Severus gave him a certain _look_ and so the fool nodded and shouted to open the gate.

Unlike Hogwarts, Azkaban was not a proper castle and had no inner courtyard. The prison stood looming and imposing, taking almost the whole of the rocky island, built in such a way that if looked from above it would have resembled a triangle.

The innards of the fortress were, strangely, much colder than the outside. _Or it's not strange at all, considering what things lurk in the shadows here_.

"Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Patronuses," Severus ordered, "Robards, light."

The four Aurors entered into a low hallway. A few gas lamps hung from the arched stony ceiling, but their dim light could not defeat the encroaching darkness. The darkness of Azkaban was a living thing, you could smell it and almost feel its touch, cold and heavy on the heart. It slithered on the floor and across the walls, blacker than black, turning the yellow light of the gas lamps into tiny, crumbling isles of false safety. Severus' throat always felt tight and constricted whenever he came here.

Then the stale air on both his sides rustled and suddenly two Patronuses came into being, bathing the hallway in a soft, silvery glow. Shacklebolt's Patronus was a striped tiger and Dawlish's was a large raven. They started circling around the Aurors, surrounding them into a ring of true light. At the same time Snape heard Gawain mutter, " _Lumos!_ " and the tip of his wand shone like a bright, white lantern.

Already feeling better, they started walking forward.

The hallway led them to the entrance of a great domed antechamber from which three tall, winding stairways ascended up, towards the cells. There were patrolling guards here, walking around the antechamber, and up and down the stairs, each of them accompanied by a glimmering Patronus. It was dangerous to work in Azkaban, but someone had to do it. _We can't trust the dementors. Without supervision they would just as likely release the dark wizards and join them. Or they would eat them_. Not that Severus would shed tears for any of the prisoners here. _There is one piece missing from the puzzle, though. Only one until we have the whole lot of them where they belong_. He couldn't deny that life was a funny thing; a year or so ago, he would have been among the people who were now doomed to rot here until they died, miserable, alone and cold. But not forgotten. _Not yet. Not while Lestrange still walks free._

He was still aggravated just thinking about it. The whole mess was the Ministry's fault. After the battle in Hogwarts back in November, those of the Dark Lord's supporters who had survived had been arrested and summarily sentenced to life in Azkaban. Such a thing was unprecedented in history, but after Barty Crouch Sr. had resigned from the post of Deputy Minister, finally released from Rookwood's Imperius, Cornelius Fudge had claimed the post and had decided that the Wizarding World needed a lasting, vivid reminder that their enemy was utterly crushed. The public needed to feel safe. _Bloody Hell, it might even have worked if not for Rabastan…_

The last Lestrange had been wounded badly at Hogwarts, beaten half to death by one of the animated suits of armor that Dumbledore had awaken to defend the school. He _would_ have died from his injuries in November… but Fudge would not have that. No Death Eater, especially one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, was to be allowed to peacefully expire in their sleep instead of serving their sentence in Azkaban.

And so Rabastan had been sent comatose and dying to St. Mungo's where the healers had to save his life at any cost. _Well, they did that_. They did it so well, in fact, that Rabastan had awakened as they were finishing with the treatment of his worst injuries. In that moment he had proven that the Dark Lord had chosen his lieutenants well, because he had not wasted a single second in hesitation or confusion. He had grabbed the closest healer's wand, jabbed it in his eye and killing him on the spot, then he had torn the emergency wing of the hospital apart, murdering a few more members of the staff as well as one elderly patient before he took a nursing apprentice hostage. He had used the girl to force the healers to release him before the Aurors managed to arrive and by the time they did arrive, it was already too late. Rabastan Lestrange was gone from St. Mungo's, healed and armed, and with a hostage.

The nurse's body had been found by muggles the next morning, floating on the surface of the Thames. Rabastan had disappeared without a trace.

Fudge could never have managed to cover this up, although he had tried. After that he had tried to assure the Wizarding World that the fugitive was going to be brought to justice swiftly. He had failed in that too. _And that's when I came into play._

A dark ripple on the edge of his vision tore Severus out of his thoughts. He lifted his head up and saw it, gliding through the fog-like blackness like a wraith. Severus took a deep breath and tapped Robards' shoulder to alert him. The blonde Auror's eyes focused on the dementor hovering in the air on their left and he nodded. _Merlin, how I hate those things…_

Deciding that the two Patronuses they had already summoned would be enough to protect them from the ghastly creature's attention, Snape resisted the impulse to conjure his doe. _My doe, or Lily's?_

As if on autopilot, his thoughts escaped back to the brief time he had spent with Lily today. When he had arrived in Hogsmeade it had taken every ounce of his self-control not to gawk like the blithering imbecile he really was as she opened the door and stood there looking like a vision of beauty. _And I didn't even compliment her!_ he realized aggravated. She had praised _his_ looks instead. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead in a gesture of exasperation at his own idiocy… but even so, thinking of Lily had the desired effect, engulfing his mind in warmth and affection that not even Azkaban could extinguish.

Soon they noticed more dementors slithering through the black air, their breath rattling softly. Aside from the footsteps of the guards and the four Aurors who had entered the antechamber, there was no other sound. The prison was always so silent down here... but Severus knew that once they climbed towards the levels where the inmates were held, it would be a different matter.

One of the guards informed them that the Minister had ordered for Karkaroff to be taken to an interrogation chamber on the fourth level in the South Wing.

"Is Gridley with him?" Severus asked.

"No, sir. He told the Warden that it's all very confidential."

 _Of course he did._ "Very well," Snape said and turned to his team. "We're for the South Wing, then."

Azkaban had three Wings, each ten levels high. Before the war ended, the prisoners had been thrown almost randomly in whatever cells were unoccupied, but after the battle in November Warden Gridley had managed to summon what little common sense he possessed and had devised a more orderly system of imprisonment. _He had no choice, they woke up one morning with ninety-one new inmates_. Ninety-six Death Eaters had survived the Battle for Hogwarts, but five of them had managed to escape capture in the chaos. Severus and his team had captured four of those five in the months that had followed the battle, Karkaroff being the latest notch on their belts. _Walden McNair, Amantia Selwyn, Richard Goyle and Igor Karkaroff. Now only Rabastan remains._

Currently, the whole South Wing of Azkaban housed the imprisoned Death Eaters. With those like Thorfin Rowle and Peter Pettigrew who had been arrested before the end of the war, their number had risen above a hundred.

The inner circle was also held there – Dolohov, Rosier, Nott, as well as Rookwood who had been detained in the Ministry almost a full day after the Dark Lord's demise. _And that's all we got, with Bella and Lucius dead, and Rabastan on the run_. The thought of Lucius made him frown and he shook his head, recognizing the cold, slimy touch of the dementors' presence, trying to worm its way inside his mind and poison him with sadness and despair. _Is it the dementors? Or is it your own sentimentality, Snivellus?_

When the Aurors started climbing towards the fourth level, the cold hit them without mercy. The South Wing was _teeming_ with dementors, hovering around their sphere of silvery light, hungry and waiting.

Severus couldn't take it anymore. With a flick of his forearm he drew his wand from the holster strapped around his wrist beneath the sleeve of the muggle blazer he still wore and he muttered, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " calling forth the doe.

The glimmering Patronus rushed into the still air, graceful and perfect like Lily herself. Shacklebolt's tiger and Dawlish's raven continued to circle protectively around the four and that allowed Snape's doe to chase away the packs of hissing dementors, shining like a blazing comet amidst the prison's crushing darkness.

Slowly, almost gingerly, the Aurors were nearing their destination. They passed by dozens of heavy doors made of solid slabs of old, dark iron, with no hatches, or windows or even bars, looking almost hewn into the black stone of the prison. The dementors shied away from the light of the Patronuses, slithering across the walls and the ceiling. They were beginning to hear the prisoners now as they moved forth. From behind some of the heavy doors Severus could swear he could hear soft, almost haunting sobbing, behind others – crazed, indecipherable murmurs. As one dementor retreated from the silent snarl of Kendra's Patronus, it pressed towards a cell door and a chocked scream echoed from inside. Severus forced his eyes strictly forward and _tried_ to order his ears to ignore the sounds of the inmates.

Eventually, the four Aurors reached the interrogation chamber. Two Azkaban guards were standing in front of the door, accompanied by the Minister's aide.

 _Dolores Umbridge_. Snape could not claim he knew the woman extremely well. She was older than him but younger than Fudge, and some in the Ministry said that her career would only climb up as the years passed by. Severus was willing to admit that Umbridge had a certain low cunning that befitted a politician, but he found her insufferable in all else. Maybe it was the way she was always so frustratingly jubilant, treating everyone around her as if they were all old friends. _That_ would have been infuriating to Severus by itself, but sometimes he could sense that there was more to this woman, hidden beneath uneven, almost impalpable silent pauses as she spoke or the way her eyes darted and fixated on you whenever you got her attention. In short, Snape found her both grating on his nerves _and_ somewhat sinister.

 _And if that is not enough, there's always her fashion sense..._ Clad in bright, cotton candy-like pink clothes from head to toe, the Minister's aide looked almost absurdly out of place in Azkaban. The Patronus that protected her from the prison's _real_ guardians looked like a tubby cat, lounging on her shoulders and bathing her face in a pale, silvery glow that contrasted with the magenta shawl that she had draped across her upper body.

When she saw Severus and his team approaching from the stairway, Umbridge cocked her head sideways and smiled at him. "Mr. Snape," she cooed, as if the terrors of Azkaban held no sway over her, "To what do we owe the pleasure? Mr. Dawlish, Mr. Robards, Ms. Shacklebolt, I'm so _glad_ to see that you're all alright after your success last night. I have to admit," she giggled softly as her cat Patronus lifted its head and pounced off her shoulders into the air to chase away a stray dementor that had gotten too close, "I would have thought that you would all enjoy a well-deserved rest today."

 _I would have if it weren't for Fudge and you,_ Severus thought sullenly, remembering Lily's eyes and bright smile.

"Work doesn't keep and wait, Dolores," Severus drawled, managing to look calm and condescending. Working for the Ministry of Magic was, in some aspects, not entirely dissimilar from serving under the Dark Lord. _One must never show meekness, or those bureaucrats and lickspittles would trample him down to the point of madness._ "As I'm sure you know, I am quite impatient to get my hands on Lestrange. I came to oversee the Minister's interrogation of the prisoner."

Leaning on his cane, he edged closer to Umbridge, purposefully invading her personal space in order to unnerve her before she could begin to interfere. As he did so, Severus threw a glance at the interrogation chamber. A large panel of thick enchanted glass had been put into the wall next to the door, allowing them to look inside without being seen by the occupants of the chamber. It was a standard practice for interrogations, though usually they were conducted by people who knew what they were doing.

In there Severus finally saw Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic was not an imposing man, and yet his body language was conveying that he was trying to portray the opposite. Sadly, the effort was wasted. Igor Karkaroff was sitting shackled in front of a table, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and cheeks. He was panting heavily, looking down at his twitching hands. It didn't look was as if he was paying much attention to Fudge. Severus frowned. Even with the dementors and Karkaroff's general weakness accounted for, this wasn't a normal reaction for someone who hadn't even spent a full twenty four hours in Azkaban and who reportedly had shouted Fudge's name for hours before the news were brought to the Minister and he arrived to interrogate him personally.

" _I am not going to ask nicely forever, Mr. Karkaroff,_ " the Minister's voice came through the enchanted glass as he puffed out his chest. " _When we caught your accomplices they testified you had been in contact with him just before you abandoned them in Birmingham. Amantia Selwyn swore to that under Veritaserum. You asked for me this morning. What do you hope to accomplish like this? You want me to reconsider your life sentence or what? The Ministry of Magic does not hand out gifts to criminals, Mr. Karkaroff. So I ask you once more – where is Rabastan Lestrange?!_ "

"Dolores," Severus said slowly and purposefully, "We are going in there. Something is wrong."

Umbridge's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before it shone back up at him, as if she wasn't intimidated by him at all.

"Nonsense, Mr. Snape," she chided him, "The Minister is handling it perfectly well. Although it's a pity the prisoner is so stubborn. We sent for a dose of Veritaserum. And once he tells us what we need to know, you will be more than welcome to head after Mr. Lestrange."

"Look at him," Kendra Shacklebolt's voice made Severus turn his gaze away from the Minister's aide. The black-skinned Auror had moved close to the glass panel, her brown eyes frowning in confusion as the Death Eater inside the interrogation chamber began lightly rocking back and forth on his chair. "He's not even noticing Fudge."

"Bloody Hell," Robards muttered under his breath. "The sod's gone mental. What d'you reckon, John? Is that a new record?"

John Dawlish scowled. "He was completely coherent last night," he commented dryly. "You can't become a complete vegetable overnight, even here. He's pulling a show."

Severus stared at Karkaroff. Suddenly, the Death Eater lifted his head up and Snape saw his eyes rolling back for a moment.

"He's not pretending..." Severus whispered to himself.

"Ah!" Umbridge's voice echoed in the darkness, maddeningly cheerful. Severus looked back at her and saw a guard coming up to the Minister's aide with a flask full of what looked like water.

But Snape knew better. Veritaserum was virtually indistinguishable from water, lacking color, odor or taste, but three drops of the potent concoction were more than enough to force a person to spill even their most deep, coveted secrets.

Umbridge ordered the guard to get inside the chamber and administer the potion. Severus' instincts were telling him that there was something terribly wrong here. _It doesn't make sense. Igor knew we're on his trail after Birmingham. Why would he go to London of all places, right at the Ministry's doorstep? Why would he ask so insistently for Fudge only to give him the silent treatment now?_ Then it dawned on him.

Suddenly Severus lunged forward, sidestepping Umbridge and throwing his cane to the ground. His heart was pounding inside his chest and his bad leg protested at the sudden movement. He heard Dawlish cry out his name as he shoved past the two Azkaban guards and smashed the door of the interrogation chamber open with his shoulder. Luckily it hadn't been locked after the man with the Veritaserum went inside.

The guard was holding Karkaroff's head tightly while Fudge was just pouring the Veritaserum into the twitching man's mouth.

The Minister of Magic twirled around madly, startled by the noise of the door.

"Severus?!" he croaked. "What...?"

"Minister, you have to get out of here at once!" Severus insisted urgently.

"Oh, Merlin's balls!" Fudge turned back to the shackled Death Eater and said, "I don't have time for you right now, Severus. We're nearly done here and we'll speak in a moment. Now, Karkaroff, tell me where Lestrange is!"

The Death Eater was jerking his head in all directions, trying to force his lips to remain closed. But he couldn't fight the Veritaserum. Nobody could.

"He was at Birmingham," Karkaroff said. His voice sounded hollow and lifeless to Snape. "He's going to... Aaaaaaaargh!" he shouted suddenly as if he was in pain and jerked back on his chair with such a force that he would have toppled on the floor if it wasn't bolted down. "MY HEAD! Akh! What is h-happening to meee?!"

"Karkaroff! Where is Lestrange?!"

"I c-can't! He did... s-something... to me," the Death Eater's voice sounded like his normal self for a brief, fleeting second before it became distant and hollow again as he lifted his manacled hands and cried, " _Bellua Ignis!_ "

Severus recognized the incantation immediately and jumped towards Fudge, lifting his wand.

Igor Karkaroff let out a terrible shriek as his whole body was instantly consumed by a bellowing inferno. The fiendfyre exploded out of nothingness and engulfed the whole room in flames, roaring, blazing and hungry for flesh.

* * *

 **AN : _Bellua Ignis_ is not a canon incantation for the fiendfyre spell. It's fanon, and no, I didn't think of it - I found it on the Internet during my search for any information about the spell's incantation. I wanted to have Karkaroff cast the spell verbally, so I took it. Kudos and a shout out to whoever came up with it, it's pretty cool. **


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **July 31, 1982, Azkaban**

He awoke.

His sleep had been restless. It was always restless. Everything felt like a nightmare that had dug its clawed fingers into his brain and was never going to let go. The first time he saw the image of his mum, looking at him with an expression that mixed equal parts sadness and disgust, it _had_ been an ordinary nightmare, on his first night at Azkaban. Soon he began to see others. Prongs was the most prominent. Not long after he began glimpsing and hearing him when he wasn't sleeping too. _I trusted you with the lives of my wife and child_ , he said to him with a hollow voice. He had wanted to prostrate himself before him and beg for forgiveness, to explain how the Dark Lord had threatened to kill his mum, but it was too late for that. There was no forgiveness in Azkaban, and the dark was not interested in explanations. Sometimes he saw Padfoot too. _I'm going to kill you, you fucking traitor!_ he would shout at him before he lunged towards him, reaching for his throat with his strong hands. Padfoot _was_ strong, and he was horrible when he was angry, but he wasn't nearly as bad as Moony. Moony would appear as he did under the pale light of the full moon, growling like the monster that shared his body with him, circling and snarling until he would inevitably soil himself. The worst nightmares (Or hallucinations? Sweet Merlin, was he going mad?) were when You-Know-Who appeared before him, mocking him with his terrible, soft voice. He had lost track of whether it was day or night, whether he was awake or asleep long ago.

So when Peter Pettigrew's eyes opened in the blackness, what surprised him most was how clear his mind felt. It was almost like a boulder had fallen off his shoulders and he hadn't realized he had been carrying it for months. His first instinct was to wince and cower, awaiting in tremors for the visions to appear as the cold darkness of the prison chilled his heart.

But today (Or tonight? It was so hard to tell, with no windows to look through or anyone to talk to... unless you counted the nightmares...) there was no visions, and the cold did not bite as fiercely as it had before.

"P-Prongs?" he croaked, his parched lips feeling raw and unaccustomed to speech. "Padfoot?' Nothing. He swallowed heavily, fighting the aches in his throat, lungs and belly. "M-Moony?" His eyes darted madly left and right, desperately trying to see if the wolfish shape was hiding in the dark. But Moony was not here. "My lord?" Peter whispered, his voice small and terrified.

There was no answer.

Slowly, Peter managed to stop trembling and uncurled himself from the corner where he slept. _Something is amiss here._ Then a sound got his attention. He couldn't remember anymore how long it had been since he was imprisoned in Azkaban, but the isolation and the darkness he now dwelt in had changed him. His body had never felt weaker, as if constantly on the verge of sickness. He doubted he could run or fight... not that he was ever any good at those before, back when he had been amongst the living. Peter didn't think that he was able to cast anything more than a few simple, childish spells... not that he even had a wand, and his talent in nonverbal magic had not been great even before Azkaban. And under the constant assault of guilt, terrors and hallucinations, his mind had been left frayed and battered. That was the worst, the knowledge that you were slowly going insane. Peter wondered dimly if the most refined part of the torture was that knowledge, that last, flickering light of sanity that knew that one day (Or night? Did it even matter?) the roaring dark would come and consume it, leaving nothing but a drooling husk that was once a man.

But for all Azkaban had taken from him, his body, his magic and his mind, the dark had repaid him by enriching and empowering his senses. _Even if it is only so I could suffer better._ The dark was a cruel master. Or perhaps it was a something that Wormtail, the rat who was once a friend to a stag, a dog and a wolf, had left behind.

Now, however, those senses were telling him that _something_ was not right. Peter could swear that the cold was retreating further and further from him with every breath that he took. _Are they gone?_

Slowly, feeling like his bones were creaking with every movement, he started crawling towards the door from where the sudden sound had come. Gingerly, he pressed his face to the rough surface and listened.

Footsteps. Talking. Coming closer.

They stopped in front of his door. Peter could almost hear them breathing (Could he? Or was that another illusion that the dark had conjured for him?).

" _Alright,_ " he heard a man's voice. " _Last one on that row. Go ahead, mate._ "

Peter winced and madly crawled back.

The door crashed open, kicked in by a giant.

Peter was blinded by the light that invaded his cell. He screamed and covered his head with his arms, curling in a ball on the hard floor.

"You sure this one's ours?" a woman's voice asked, dripping with contempt.

"Merciful Salazar, it _stinks_ in here," the giant choked and Peter heard him spit on the floor. "Fucking vermin!"

The first voice, the one who had given the order to open his cell, tut-tutted. "Now, now, Amantia, Walden, none of us was in top shape when we came out, innit?"

Peter heard footsteps coming closer and closer to him. His body began to tremble and convulse.

"It's your lucky day, mate," the man said, his voice light as if Azkaban was a droll joke to him. "Your sentence has been cut short."

Peter slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the man. His face was not pretty. Peter's eyes hurt from the light that was pouring from the hallway outside his cell, but he could make out a thin face marred by pockmarks and a pair of bored eyes staring at him.

"M-my s-sentence? Are... are you from the M-Ministry?" he whimpered.

The man with the pockmarks laughed at him.

"Not quite," he quipped, then his hand shot itself at Peter and before he could even scream in fright he gripped him by the arm and turned it with the palm up.

It was the arm that You-Know-Who had marked on the day Peter betrayed Prongs.

"See, Amantia?" Pockmarks said. "Told you so. Everyone in the whole fucking Wing is ours."

"Whatever, Rookwood."

Peter's eyes slowly, painfully adjusted to the light. He gazed at the three figures inside his cell. _Are they real? Or am I asleep?_ No, that couldn't be right. His hallucinations never touched him as Rookwood had done and he could tell that the door of his cell was truly open because his eyes still hurt as he blinked rapidly. _And I don't know these people. It's not like with Mum, or Prongs, or Padfoot, or Moony._

The giant who had kicked the door open was not really a giant, just a very tall and broad-shouldered man with greazy, disheveled hair. The woman with the disdainful voice, Amantia, was gaunt and her face seemed cruel. Rookwood's features were not remarkable aside from his pockmarks and his bored gaze. Then Peter realized that all three wore the same dirty, striped rags as him.

 _They're prisoners,_ he thought, then his sluggish mind finally caught up with him.

They were Death Eaters.

Peter tried to free himself from Rookwood's grip as his feet started scratching on the floor in a vain attempt to get away. It was no use. Rookwood barked an order and the huge man stepped towards Peter, grabbing him by the collar with his big hand and hauling him up. Pettigrew groaned in pain as the atrophic muscles in his legs protested against the sudden movement. His eyes darted madly everywhere, desperately searching, but there was no way to escape and even the thought of fighting turned his knees to jelly.

His only choice was to surrender to those Death Eaters and hope they wouldn't kill him. _They won't_ , he tried to assure himself, _they saw the Dark Mark, they won't hurt me, they think I'm one of them._

Was he?

"Come on, chaps," Rookwood said. "It's best if we don't dally."

And so Peter Pettigrew came out of his prison cell for the first time in what felt like an eternity. As he hobbled behind the Death Eaters, he noticed that all the doors in the hallway hung open. _What is happening? Is the dark gone? Are we free?_

"What's your name, mate?" Rookwood asked him without turning to look at him as they walked.

"P-Peter. Peter Pettigrew. Wha... What has happened?" His weak voice echoed in the dim hallway.

"Funny story, that. Ever heard of fiendfyre, Peter?"

Peter shook his head, then realized that they were all walking ahead of him and so he said, "No."

And so Rookwood started talking. He seemed like a man who loved to hear his own voice. The story he told Peter seemed like something out of a delirium. Someone had unleashed the fiendfyre curse – a semi-sentient firestorm that was nigh-impossible to stop – inside the prison. Rookwood said it was still raging on the lower levels of the prison and was apparently spreading towards the rest of the fortress as well. The Azkaban guards had panicked, Rookwood claiming they had been completely unprepared for a situation like this, with some of them rushing to get out of the prison immediately while others had began trying to put the fiendfyre out.

The inferno had also scared the dementors away. _So that's why it's not so cold anymore. Or is it the fire?_ Once a few of the more powerful Death Eaters that were locked on the upper levels had managed to recover after the dementors had fled, they had blasted their cells open and in minutes a whole gang of them was set free. Rookwood's next words chilled Peter to the bone.

"Once we killed a few stray guards and took their wands, Antonin led a few of the lads up to the Warden's office. The sod had barricaded himself with only a pair of guards. One was a girl, Thorfin was glad for that. They were still treating the Warden with the good old Cruciatus when we set out to get everyone we could out." He laughed at that, a crowing, ugly sound. "You were the last one, Peter. The lower levels are burning."

There was nothing he could say in answer. With each step he was falling further and further behind, and he soon had to force his legs to carry him forward. He was afraid to go with the Death Eaters, but he was terrified at the prospect of remaining alone, with the cursed firestorm and the guards who were trying to contain it below. There was no other way for Peter but forth. He couldn't go back to his cell. _The dark won't get me, it won't, I can't let it, not again, never again_.

"Wh-who created the fiendfyre?" he asked. "Has the D-Dark Lord come to free us?"

Before Rookwood could answer, the huge man whirled around, grabbed Peter by the throat and slammed him hard into the stone wall. He tried to scream but the impact drove the air out of his sunken chest.

"I've had it with this little shit, Rookwood!" He snarled, his face reddening with anger. "He was not even worth the effort of opening his cell. Any objections if I wring his chicken neck right here and now?"

Peter began squirming madly in the big man's death grip. It was no use. His head was beginning to feel hazy as the man's calloused fingers dug cruelly into his skin.

"Um... I... uhhh..." Peter heard Rookwood's voice. He sounded just as untroubled and unperturbed as he had a few seconds before. "No, got nothing, mate. Sorry, Peter," he drawled, not sounding sorry at all, as if whether Peter lived or died was not something he was even remotely interested in, "Walden has a point. We _are_ in a bit of a pickle here and we don't need stragglers and weak ones right now."

 _No! I can be useful! Don't kill me!_ he tried to say, but only spittle and gargling sounds came out of his throat. His lungs were beginning to burn. His kicks were growing more and more feeble. He vaguely heard Amantia laughing softly.

Then suddenly a voice cried out "Halt!" and a bolt of light colored Peter's darkening vision in red. The wall on his side exploded, sending smouldering pieces of rock into the air. Walden released him and staggered back, holding his hand with a hiss of pain.

Peter crumpled on the stony floor, wheezing and coughing, his mouth gulping down greedily Azkaban's stale air. His ears were ringing and his eyes stung as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.

"Fuck!" Amantia shouted angrily, " _Avada Kedavra!_ Fucking... ow!"

Peter opened his teary eyes and tried to focus his blurry vision. A man was standing in the intersection between their hallway and a winding stairway that led to the lower levels. _He's a guard,_ Peter realized, still unable to lift himself off the ground. _He's come for me,_ _he's come to return me to the dark,_ a mad thought flared in his brain before he had to remind herself that there was an ongoing riot in Azkaban.

He saw that Amantia had fallen too, still clutching a wand in her hand and trying to get on her feet. Blood was trickling from a shallow gash on her forehead. Rookwood waved a hand and sent a wandless Blastling Curse towards the guard who rolled out of the fireball's way, letting it crash into the floor behind him. Then Walden tackled him with a roar to the ground sideways with his massive bulk and began pounding on him with his bare fists, bellowing like a lunatic. A moment later he was thrown into the air by a Knockback Jinx and fell on his back and neck, hard. Peter thought he heard something _crunch_.

The guard rose on wobbly feet.

His back was turned towards Peter who had gotten on his knees. He saw Rookwood tense, expecting an attack from the guard. Amantia was still disoriented and Walden had not moved from the place where he fell.

Peter hesitated, then acted.

He crashed his whole body into the guard's lower back, knocking him off balance. They both stumbled forward and Peter's legs gave out, sending him once more to the ground.

But it had been enough, because Amantia had managed to get up on one knee. Blood dripping down her thin face, she pointed her wand at the guard and murdered him with a green blast of the Killing Curse. Peter let out an involuntary squeak.

"I'll be damned..." Rookwood let out his breath and laughed, bending forward and putting his hands on his knees. He gave Pettigrew an amused glance. "Up, Peter."

Peter gulped. _They can't kill me now, I helped them, I showed them I wasn't weak._ He tried not to stare at the guard's lifeless body as he stood up uncertainly.

He eyed Walden instead. The large man was breathing unevenly and a single look was enough to tell Peter that he was badly injured by his fall. Walden's neck was bent in an unnatural angle and he suddenly coughed up bloody bile that dripped down his beard and throat. Rookwood _tsked_ with his tongue when he saw that.

"Damn shame," Amantia said as she hobbled close to them and wiped the blood off her face with the outer side of her palm. "He was a good fighter." Peter saw Walden opening and closing his mouth but no sounds came. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

This time Peter didn't flinch.

"Yeah," staring at Walden's still body, Rookwood sounded uncaring as he always did. "Come on, we got to run now or Antonin will go without us. No telling how soon more buggers will come like this one did. "

And so they ran, Peter barely managing to follow after the long strides of Rookwood and Amantia on his feeble legs. His whole body hurt from the exhaustion, sweat was dripping into his eyes and down his nose and his insides felt mangled and seared. _Keep going, have to keep going_ , he chanted over and over in his mind as he ran. _I can't stop, can't let them take me back to the dark._

On and on they went, running up black stairways and through dim corridors, climbing higher and higher. Peter had no idea where they were going and was just doing his best just to trail after the two Death Eaters. Soon they passed by a bunch of dead bodies, strewn across the stony floor, prisoners and a few guards, an evidence of the escape and the fights Rookwood had talked about before.

Finally, when Peter was on the verge of accepting the fact that he was going to collapse in a heap and heave his lungs out, they reached their destination. Peter heard them well before they saw them, people talking and muttering in the darkness.

A big group of Death Eaters were standing in front of a door. There were at least twenty of them. Rookwood and Amantia did not spare them a glance and strode right through the door. Peter slinked after them, afraid to be left alone out here. Rookwood and Amantia scared him too, but at least he had began to get _somewhat_ used to them.

He regretted that the moment they walked into what he assumed was the Warden's office that Rookwood had mentioned briefly.

Peter stepped over the body of an obese, elderly man dressed in a more lavish uniform than the regular guards. _Is that the Warden?_ His corpse looked like he had convulsed violently before he had died. Another man, a guard, was also dead on the floor and on the Warden's desk lay the body of the second guard, a female. Her uniform had been torn open and her pale, naked flesh was marred by bruises and fresh wounds. Peter averted his eyes. Four men were standing in the room, four Death Eaters. One was tall and muscular, much like Walden had been, but he had a long yellow beard and a mane of unkempt hair that fell well past his shoulders. _He must have been here longer even than me_. Another was an old man, his hair gone white and thin. The third seemed very young, of an age with Peter, but with much better looks that had not been quite as spoiled by the dark. He seemed vaguely familiar to Peter. _Maybe we've been together in Hogwarts?_ The fourth Death Eater had a commanding air around him, and his long face seemed twisted somehow. He frowned when he turned from the window to look at Rookwood.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later. His voice had an odd, rough accent, as if he was not British. "Where is McNair?"

"Dead," Rookwood shrugged. "A stray guard ran into us as we were coming back."

"Did you take care of him at least?"

"Sure did," Amantia huffed.

"I see," the Death Eater eyed the wound on her forehead and said nothing more.

"And did you find more of our people?" the old man asked urgently. "We need everyone if they have begun climbing back here."

"Well, as to that, Nott," Rookwood nonchalantly as he went to a cabinet next to the Warden's desk and pulled out a bottle half-full of amber liquid, completely undisturbed by the body of the dead woman that lay on top of the desk, "Crabbe had kicked the bucket inside his cell, the fat bastard, and," he took a hefty swallow from the bottle then wiped his mouth, "the last one on the ledge housed _him_." He pointed to Peter with the bottle, "That's Peter..."

"Pettigrew?" The youngest Death Eater interrupted him, staring at Peter with a nasty smirk. "Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yeah," Rookwood drank again. "You know him, Evan?"

All eyes in the room turned to Peter who swallowed heavily. _Don't show fear, you helped them, Rookwood knows you're not worthless._ But even he was not as mad as to truly believe that Rookwood was going to speak out for his sake.

"He's a bit older than me, but yes, we studied in Hogwarts together," the one called Evan answered and then he laughed. "He was one of Potter's cronies, always trailing behind him and Black."

Peter was convinced that his heart had stopped beating for a second.

"No!" He croaked and pulled up the sleeve of his marked arm up. "See? I am not with them, I'm with the Dark Lord! He knows me! I've spoken to him! He will tell you!"

The Death Eater with the twisted face barely spared a glance at his Dark Mark and turned to Rookwood. "So, to recap, Crabbe was already dead, McNair got killed by a guard, and you brought a traitor who doesn't even know that the Dark Lord is dead? Well done, Augustus."

Rookwood flipped him off and took another drink. Peter's stunned mind registered only the man's most important words. _The Dark Lord is dead? How? When?_ Suddenly, he had the urge to fall down and cry. _I betrayed Prongs, and for what?! The Dark Lord is dead! If only I had waited!_

"Is he at least any good?" The Death Eater with the twisted face asked Evan.

"No, he's useless," the young man shrugged. The older Death Eater sighed wearily, glaring at Rookwood.

Then suddenly they heard shouting from the outside. Amantia strode to the door and opened it.

"They're coming!" A Death Eater hollered. "Dolohov, what will we do?!"

The man with the twisted face, Dolohov, did not bother to answer. He just nodded to Amantia who pointed her wand at the door and cried, " _Colloportus!_ "

The door to the Warden's office slammed itself shut, sealing its hinges with an odd, squelching noise.

"Have you thought of an escape route?" Rookwood asked Dolohov still clutching his bottle as fists began pounding frantically on the other side of the door.

"I have," he answered. "We jump."

The Warden's office fell completely silent, which only made the commotion outside even louder.

" _What?_ " For the first time, Rookwood looked like he had lost his composure. "Have you gone mad?!"

"It's a clear drop," Dolohov said. "But you're more than welcome to find another way out if you wish." The cries from the outside grew more frenzied. "But you better do it quick."

Rookwood did not answer, and instead twirled around and threw the bottle at the wall where it shattered loudly. Peter winced from the noise.

Dolohov took a wand from the desk and pointed it at the window. " _Confringo!_ " He exclaimed.

The explosion's shockwave almost knocked Peter on the ground. Then the salty wind flew inside with a mighty howl, pouring through the smoking maw that now gaped where the wall and the window had been a moment ago. Peter saw the sky, grey and angry.

Dolohov stepped to the edge and craned his neck to peer down at the sea.

"What if there are rocks under the surface?" Evan asked.

Dolohov blinked. "That's actually a good question," he admitted, then he turned to look at Peter. "Thorfin?" he said.

Before Peter realized what was happening, a powerful hand gripped him by the neck and the huge blonde man dragged him towards the hole in the wall.

"No!" Peter cried. "Don't! Plea-"

But before he could finish he was already in the air and all he could see was the sea, far below and flying closer and closer. All he could hear were his own screams as the wind whipped around his body. Then he hit the water.


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **July 31, 1982, Azkaban**

Severus screamed in pain when he landed hard on the stony floor of the cell. Less than a second later Cornelius Fudge fell on top of him with a hoarse cry.

There was a man huddled in the corner of the cell. He stared at them with wild eyes. _A Death Eater,_ Snape realized. He didn't know him. Panting and still lying prone on the floor, Severus looked at the whole in the ceiling and saw the fiery glow of the finedfyre raging in the interrogation chamber. He heard the alarmed cries of the guards and his team above, carrying over the near-deafening roar of the flames.

At the very moment when Igor Karkaroff had released the destructive curse inside the chamber above, Severus had acted on pure instinct, blowing a hole in the floor, grabbing the Minister of Magic and jumping down, just as the fire had leapt at them. _Sweet Merlin..._ Severus took a deep breath, trying to still the mad thumping of his heart as Fudge scrambled to get up.

Then, to his dread, Severus saw a glowing tendril of orange fire swooshing down the hole he had made. Fudge followed his gaze and the imprisoned Death Eater followed Fudge's. Heat poured into the cell.

" _MOVE!_ " Severus shouted. Thankfully, he had managed to keep his fingers tightened around the hilt of his wand when they fell. He pointed it at the door of the cell and, without any hesitation, sent a Blasting Curse at it.

His body did not even need the guidance of his mind. Frantically, he half-crawled, half-jumped out of the cell. Fudge ran after him, either in a surprisingly good shape for his age and stature, or being driven by pure, animalistic terror. Severus did not care enough to wonder which it was at this moment. He saw the Death Eater trying desperately to follow, having finally realized the danger.

It was too late. The roaring fiendfyre swept through the hole in the ceiling like a fiery whirlwind and engulfed the cell in a blazing inferno. The screaming Death Eater was caught in it just before he could jump out. By the time the firestorm exploded out of the entrance of the cell, spilling into the hallway, Severus and Fudge were already running.

Each step was an agony for his bad leg, rattling his bones and straining his muscles, but stopping was not an option. He could feel the searing heat at his back, could hear the crackling fury of the ensorcelled flames. Severus saw an Azkaban guard in front of them, the glow of the fiendfyre illuminating his uniform, his eyes going wide with shock and horror before he turned and fled. _Bloody Hell!_

"What do we do?!" Fudge cried half a step beside Severus.

What _were_ they going to do, Snape wondered as they ran. They couldn't go on forever. Severus' leg was going to give out soon, and the Minister was not a young man. The fiendfyre was an ancient spell, difficult to learn and nearly impossible to control. Theoretically, he could have tried to find Karkaroff and force him to dispel the curse... but Karkaroff had been the fiendfyre's first victim, devoured by the inferno as he had unleashed it.

"It will burn itself out!" Severus shouted in response. Azkaban was built by stone, so the flames could not sustain themselves indefinitely. Severus preferred not to dwell on the thought that the only things that the fiendfyre could really burn inside Azkaban were the prisoners inside their cells or any guard unlucky enough to get caught in the blaze. _Or us_.

Suddenly his bad leg twitched and almost gave out. Fortunately, Snape did not fall, but he still stumbled down on one knee. To Fudge's credit, he stopped and looked at him in confusion instead of darting forth. Severus heard the billowing flames behind. His black eyes looked for anything, any way out. And then it dawned on him. _One chance, and one chance only. Better be quick about it, Snivellus._

Without warning, he grabbed the Minister by the arm, pointed his wand at the cell door to their left and shouted, " _Confringo!_ ", sending a Blasting Curse to blow it open.

"Inside! Now!" Severus roared at Fudge as he leapt to his feet and to the left.

Fudge's reflexes were not fast enough, but Severus nearly lifted him in the air with his own momentum.

The two men jumped inside the cell. A witch with grizzled long hair cried out in fright but before she could move, Severus subdued her with a Stunner. Still on his hands and knees, with Fudge scrambling to get up beside him, he pointed his wand at the hole where the door of the cell had been and roared, " _Glacius!_ "

The Freezing Spell was a simple incantation, taught to children in Hogwarts. A single blast of ice-cold air alone was not going to stop the assault of the fiendfyre.

But Severus was not intending to fire a single blast.

His black wand unleashed a continuous stream of glowing blue-white energy and, guided by Snape's will, it sealed the blown up door in ice.

Severus did not stop. " _Glacius!_ " he chanted again and again, " _Glacius!_ " until the ice barrier had become thick as the stone walls around them and their breaths turned to steaming vapor.

"S-Severus...?" he heard Cornelius Fudge's voice behind him.

And then, with a deafening roar, the rolling wave of fire swooshed past them, its hungry glow bathing the prison cell in hues of orange and red through the wall of glimmering ice. The Minister screamed and fell on his backside.

Severus stubbornly continued to mutter the freezing incantation, never stopping with the beam of icy energy aimed at the door. The ice was sizzling and creaking with sharp, cutting shrieks as the fire was raging outside. Clouds of wet steam were filling the small cell.

Severus cried out in pain as he kept on refreezing the melting wall of ice while the fiendfyre kept on trying to break inside and engulf them in its fiery embrace. His head was throbbing in agony and his teeth were bared in a snarl. He could feel blood oozing from his hooked nose, tasting the coppery liquid on his lips and feeling it dripping down his chin. After a while Severus lost the accuracy of his perception of time. He could not tell how long he had continued like that, a few minutes or a few hours.

Until, as abruptly as it had all began, it was over.

The glow of the fire began to dim down and then, suddenly, it was gone. Severus continued strengthening the ice for a few more seconds before his vision blackened and he fell.

* * *

When he came to his senses and opened his eyes, he found out, to his annoyance, that Fudge was slapping his cheeks lightly, shaking his shoulders and repeating his name urgently. The Minister's round, flustered face with his fearful beady eyes was not a sight he wanted to see this close ever again.

Severus roughly shoved the old man's hands away and sat up. He threw a glance at the door. The ice was still there and the fiendfyre was gone. Severus finally allowed himself to release his breath in a relieved sigh.

He raised his wand and muttered, " _Lumos!_ " bathing the cell in a soft light that was reflected prettily by the crystallized ice.

"Is it gone?" Fudge's voice sounded uncharacteristically small.

"Yes," Severus said and groaned when he felt the stab in his leg as he stood up carefully. He looked at the Death Eater he had stunned when they flew inside her cell. She was still lying in a heap on the stony floor. "Come, Minister," Severus said evenly. "Let us see what damage was done." He stopped himself before he could add, _by your stupidity._

Apparently, Fudge caught the gist of what was left unsaid and opened his mouth to say something, but Snape silenced him with a withering look.

As they stepped into the prison's hallway, they were greeted only by silent darkness. Snape did not need to look around to know that any people caught inside their cells on the fiendfyre's path had been incinerated. Severus stood still for a moment, his glowing wand raised above his head. _Up or down,_ he hesitated, then headed towards the nearest stairway.

"Where are we going?" Fudge asked.

"To see if my team and your aide survived, Minister," Severus answered without turning to look at him.

He was surprised by how much the thought of losing his men stung. Severus knew perfectly well that Shacklebolt, Robards and Dawlish were not his friends, would never _be_ his friends... but they had stood by his side in battle in the past and they had all followed him here today. _I will hold this fucking cunt responsible if they're dead._

As it turned out, before he could find out about their fates, Severus found something far worse... but he didn't know it yet.

He and the Minister were just stepping into the intersection that connected the third level with one of the South Wing's stairways when they heard a male voice cry out, "Halt! Identify yourself!" soon followed by the glow of a wand climbing up towards them.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," he shouted in response when he made out the uniform of an Azkaban guard in the pale light. "I have Minister Fudge with me."

"Sir," the guard nodded at him and bowed slightly to Fudge. "Minister."

"What's the situation?" Severus asked the guard.

"The fire's gone," the man shook his head. "We still don't know what happened."

"An unruly prisoner," Snape said dryly, throwing a glare at the Minister. Fudge looked down at his shoes like a petulant child. "Are the lower levels under control? Where are the dementors? Did your men suffer many casualties?"

"The dementors all fled to the first level. Some even to the other Wings, others flew straight out of the island. They got scared, I bet. Don't know how many we got dead. A lot of folks came down from the upper levels. Everyone panicked, sir."

"I see." Severus nodded to the guard to follow as he began climbing up. "Have you heard anything from the fourth level and above?"

"No, sir. We think the Warden's up there too, if he made it."

Severus frowned. Something smelled foul here.

When they reached the fourth level, he turned to the guard and said, "I want you to climb up and see what's happening on the levels above. Report back to me at the interrogation chamber on this level. Come, Minister," he added as he stepped out of the stairway. Fudge hesitated, but apparently decided that it was safer to stay with Severus instead of being on his own until more guards came.

Silence ascended once more as Severus and Fudge made their way to the interrogation chamber.

"All in all, Minister," Severus said after a moment, "I will admit, it could have been worse."

"What?"

"Karkaroff was Imperiused," Severus explained. "I noticed the signs before I interfered and jumped inside. This, the fiendfyre, the inability to talk even under Veritaserum, it was all Lestrange's work. In all likelihood it happened at Birmingham and he instructed Karkaroff to head to London."

"Dear Merlin..." Fudge murmured.

"So if you had followed the standard procedure and had him transferred to the Ministry for questioning, he would have unleashed the curse there. The trigger was the point in which he, inevitably, would have tried to betray Lestrange's whereabouts."

Fudge puffed out his chest. "So it's good we stopped it here."

"Yes," Severus admitted, then shrugged and said, "You're still a bloody idiot, though," before he strode forward, not interested in any answer the Minister might have had and ignoring the dull protests of his bad leg.

Then, suddenly, as he turned around the corner, Severus was blinded by the light of a lit wand as four figures almost clashed into him.

"Boss?!"

"Robards?" Severus cried in surprise as he saw the Auror's bearded face. His eyes scanned the rest. "Shacklebolt? Dawlish? Are you unharmed?"

"Just a little rattled, boss" Kendra Shacklebolt answered dryly. She and John Dawlish were carefully supporting Dolores Umbridge. The Minister's aide looked hazed, but otherwise safe, her bright pink clothes covered in ash and grime.

"How did you survive?" Snape wondered, refusing to acknowledge the weight that had fallen off his heart when he saw the three Aurors.

"It was Gawain's idea," Shacklebolt said. "We shrunk ourselves and Ms. Umbridge and hid in the cracks on the floor. The fire couldn't reach us there. The smoke was a bitch, though," she added.

Snape was impressed. Even he had not thought of that. "Good job," he almost smiled.

"Yeah, well," Robards grimaced, "Cockroaches are much more unpleasant than usual when you're looking _up_ at them, I'll tell you that much."

"And what about you?" Dawlish asked. "How did you rescue the Minister?"

"I blew a hole in the floor, then we hid in a cell that I sealed off with ice."

"Bloody Hell," Shacklebolt muttered. "What the fuck happened back there?"

As Severus began explaining his suspicion about Karkaroff, a group of Azkaban guards arrived, wands lit and ready for a fight. _As if any prisoner in the vicinity could have survived the fiendfyre._ There were probably tens of inmates dead, and it was anyone's guess about the number of victims among the guards, but Severus had never had the habit of looking a gift horse in the teeth. _We're alive, Fudge is alive... it could have been far worse._ Suddenly, he thought of Lily. He knew she wasn't exactly enamored with the fact that he had chosen to join the Auror Office back in February, and the mental image of Ministry employees knocking at her door in Hogsmeade to inform her that he had perished in a fire at Azkaban on Harry's birthday was downright disturbing. He shook his head, chasing the morbid thoughts away. _I'm fine and I will live to see her another day,_ he reminded himself. But now he needed to focus.

None of the guards had heard from Warden Gridley, or from anyone on the upper levels after the fiendfyre had exploded, and that made him frown. The guard he had ordered to check the situation there had not returned either.

Severus looked around, noticing nothing but confused faces and worried eyes. _Someone has to act, Snivellus_.

"You and you," he pointed at two guards in the crowd. "Take the Minister and his aide and escort them out of Azkaban immediately." Cornelius Fudge avoided Snape's eyes, but Umbridge looked almost grateful. "The rest, with us."

"Where are we going, sir?" one of the guards asked.

"Above," Severus told her. "I have a mind to check on what's happening there."

The dementors were still gone from the South Wing, and yet, as Severus, his team and the ragtag band of Azkaban guards walked through the charred hallway, he could feel his stomach twisting itself in a knot. _It's nothing,_ he tried to assure himself, _We will meet up with a patrol from the upper levels any minute now._ They never did. Severus felt like they were drowning in silence.

Apparently everyone's nerves were jittery, because as they passed by one of the cells whose door had been burned to dust on the fiendfyre's path, a guard let out a chocked cry and sent a battle hex inside. There was a loud crackle and a hiss as a small fiery explosion colored the darkness in an orange glow as a shower of big, scarlet sparks erupted from the insides of the cell. Everyone stopped and pointed their wands. When nothing happened, Severus recovered first and grabbed the fool by the collar.

"What _the fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" he growled in the guard's face.

"I saw _eyes!_ Red eyes, watching us!"

Severus blinked and let out his breath. He released the idiot. _Has any of them even graduated from Hogwarts?_ he wondered as he looked inside the cell, lifting his wand high to cast the light of the charm further. He saw a puddle of gooey liquid with the color of molten copper and pieces of what looked like thick eggshells.

"You glimpsed an ashwinder. A magical serpent, manifests itself after a magical fire has burnt itself out. They're harmless to humans and are interested only in laying their eggs," Severus eyed coldly the rest of Azkaban's motley crew. "So keep your wands steady and don't panic."

"The eggs are quite valuable, though," Robards grinned as he clasped the foolish guard on the shoulder. "Busted a trafficking ring last year. They were worth forty galleons a piece back then."

The guard's voice nearly trembled with greed as they trailed behind Severus when he asked, "W-what are they for, sir?"

"Love potions," Gawain laughed, then his voice turned serious. "Mates, I can see it in your eyes. Don't even think about it. Ashwinder eggs are _very_ volatile, as it was just demonstrated. They explode in your hands, you'd be lucky to keep all your fingers."

"Not to mention they're Ministry property now," John Dawlish drawled from behind.

At the head of the group, Severus rolled his eyes in the dark. _Well, at least that took the anxiety off their minds._

When they finally climbed at the fifth level, however, everyone froze in horror.

The cell doors hung open. They were empty. All of them, as far as the eye could see.

"Wands at the ready," Snape hissed.

Around him, his team eased into their battle formation. Severus had the front, Shacklebolt and Dawlish took their places on his sides and Robards took the back. The guards pooled around them, most of them huddled close to each other.

A few yards into the dark hallway, they saw the first bodies.

Most were Death Eaters, easily recognizable by the striped, filthy rags they wore. But some of the bodies wore the uniforms of Azkaban guards. It looked like they hadn't been killed by magic, but rather beaten, pummeled and strangled to death. Severus' swallowed heavily. For each dead guard there were maybe five or six Death Eaters killed. Then Severus noticed something that was missing.

"There are no wands," he whispered to his team. He glimpsed Kendra Shacklebolt nodding on his right, signaling she had understood.

Those Death Eaters that had survived the initial onslaught against the guards were now armed and on the loose somewhere inside the prison. _Damn Fudge_ , Severus swore silently. They had to contain this quickly. He doubted that anyone would be able to escape from Azkaban... but he was absolutely unwilling to take any risks. _They must be on this level, or somewhere above..._ Then he stopped. The Warden's office was located on the seventh level, at the very point between the ends of the South and the West Wing, forming something of a secluded turret that overlooked the bay. If the escaped Death Eaters had taken Gridley hostage, Snape suspected that the situation could easily turn much uglier and more dangerous. _Thank Merlin Fudge is on his way out._ He frowned as they crept forward, sidestepping corpses in the dark. _Was all of this a part of Rabastan's plan?_ he wondered. No, it wasn't possible. No doubt the last Lestrange had intended to cause as much damage as he could when he had Imperiused Karkaroff and instructed him to let the fiendfyre loose, but he couldn't have possibly predicted that the curse would be unleashed inside Azkaban. _He was targeting the Ministry_. In which case the casualties would have been enormous, and chaos may have reigned for days. _But why? What was he planning?_

Eventually, the four Aurors and the Azkaban guards reached an intersection between the main hallway and a stair that led up. Severus hesitated, weighing their options. Then he put three guards under Robards' command and instructed them to scout the rest of the fifth level, empty as it seemed, and then climb up straight towards Gridley's office on the seventh. Severus led the rest towards the sixth.

It turned out that the sixth level was much like the fifth, the stony floor strewn with dead bodies, although this time the casualties on the side of the Death Eaters seemed fewer.

One of the corpses they found near the stairs was familiar to Severus. It was the guard he had sent up earlier. _Fuck._ Severus was not squeamish, and a body could not affect a man who had seen the dead rise from the bottom of a lake at the Dark Lord's command... but he had been the one who had sent the guard here, alone. _It's my fault,_ he thought darkly _._

Next to him he noticed one of the fugitive Death Eaters he and his team had captured at Birmingham.

"Walden McNair," Kendra Shacklebolt said as she crouched down to look at his body. "His neck's broken."

"We make for the Warden's office," Severus ordered, his decision made. "Gawain will have to catch up with us."

With that they turned left and started climbing up. Severus forced himself to a fast pace, ignoring the discomfort in his leg. He missed his cane, but it had been left on the floor before the interrogation chamber to be consumed by the fiendfyre. Once they reached the seventh level, he ordered a run. Shacklebolt could have moved past him, but she stayed to his right. Snape had the nagging suspicion that she expected him to fall on his arse and wanted to catch him before he did so. He gritted his teeth and kept running.

As they drew near to their destination, Severus heard voices. His hunch has been correct. _They've attacked the Warden's office._ He hoped Gridley had had the sense and the time to barricade himself in.

"We attack first," he said as they ran. "No warnings or urging for surrender. Kill or maim _anyone_ with a wand. The rest are to be subdued."

They made a sharp turn and saw a gang of more than twenty Death Eaters standing outside the door of the office. As they neared, the escaped inmates noticed them and let out alarmed cries. Severus glimpsed the door slamming itself shut before he raised his wand and started fighting.

The Death Eaters stood no chance. He saw Dawlish nimbly dodging a fist from a large Death Eater, sending him unconscious to the ground a moment later. On the right Shacklebolt flickered her wand and sent an attacker into the air before violently crashing his body into a wall with an aggressive use of the Rocket Charm.

Severus found himself against one of the few Death Eaters who held a wand.

"Snape," the man snarled hatefully. "You fucking traitor."

He had to hear the voice to recognize him after the toll that the months spent in Azkaban had taken on him. _Avery._ He was one of his former classmates from his years at Hogwarts. A cruel, stupid boy with a nasty temper, he had turned into a cruel, stupid man. _But that didn't stop me from being one of his partners in crime._ He remembered how much Lily had despised that group of cruel, stupid Slytherins. _If I had only listened to her instead of the likes of Avery, we might not have lost those five years..._

Severus sidestepped the emerald, swooshing ray of the Killing Curse that Avery sent at him, then he cried " _Sectumsempra!_ ", aiming his curse at the Death Eater's broad chest. Avery cried out in pain and horror as a shower of blood erupted from his body. He dropped his wand and fell on the ground, hard. Severus hesitated for a second before blasting him with the counterspell before he could bleed out and moving on to the next target.

Just then an explosion echoed from inside the office. _What the...?_ He dispatched the next Death Eater, and the next, and then he found himself at the door.

Before he could even do something, the flying body of a guard crashed at him from the side and he reeled, desperately fighting to regain his balance. Severus and the guard fell in a heap on the hard floor. He tried to raise his wand before he even began to get up, but a fist collided with his face, almost knocking him out and rattling his jaw painfully. A Death Eater was kneeling above him. He raised his fist to strike Snape's spinning head once more but then he heard Shacklebolt cry out " _Sectumsempra!_ " and the Death Eater howled in agony as the curse bit into his back with a sharp, fleshy sound. _In hindsight, it was not a bad idea to teach them the damned spell_.

The Death Eater fell forward, blood gushing from the wound on his back and splattering all over Severus' grey shirt. His black eyes found Kendra Shacklebolt who hurried to him.

"You alright, boss?" she asked as he took her outstretched hand and let her draw him to his feet.

Before he could answer he saw a Death Eater lunging at Shacklebolt's back with a heavy stone in his hands.

" _Stupefy!_ " Severus roared and Shacklebolt twirled madly around when the bolt of red energy flew past her ear and hit the Death Eater square on, sending him flying and unconscious a few steps back.

"Take care of him!" he commanded Kendra as he nodded to the Death Eater whose back was bleeding profusely from the Auror's curse.

Then he ran back to the door of the Warden's office. Severus smashed his shoulder in it, hoping to crash it open but nothing happened. Then he remembered what he had seen earlier, the door slamming itself shut when the Death Eaters noticed them and started shouting in alarm. _There must be more of them inside,_ and then he realized exactly _who_ was there. _The inner circle. They were all held above the fourth level._ Dolohov, Rookwood, Rosier and Nott must have been the ones to spearhead the riot.

He pointed his black wand at the lock and said, " _Alohomora!_ "

The door swung itself open.

The fight was still boiling all around him but all he could notice was the Warden's office.

Warden Gridley was dead on the floor, his guards having shared his fate. There was nobody else inside. But a gaping, smoking hole in the wall through which the wind roared inside and the grey sky bathed the office in cold light told him exactly where the Death Eaters had gone. The inner circle had escaped from Azkaban.


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **August 1, 1982, Hogsmeade**

Lily sighed as she pulled the pitcher of cold lemonade from the fridge. The morning had not started well. Albus Dumbledore had sent her an owl from Hogwarts to inform her that her official introduction to the faculty had been moved for tomorrow, in order to facilitate and combine it with the arrival of the _other_ new addition to the staff who was to teach Defense Against The Dark Arts, as well as assume his duties as the new Head of House for Slytherin since Horace Slughorn had retired soon after the end of the last term in June. The Headmaster wished to introduce both Lily and the new Defense teacher together in a single ceremony rather than host two different events.

Lily had nothing against the idea, it was convenient and pragmatic, and in her opinion the school needed more work and less ceremonies after the war had ended... but it had also smashed her plans for conducting the interviews for Harry's babysitter over the course of the following week. Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly tell the Headmaster to shove it because she had other things to do. _Like it or not, Evans, Dumbledore is your official boss now._

So Lily had not had much of a choice except to move a few of the interviews early. She had already gone through two teenage girls from Hogsmeade earlier today, but so far she was not convinced either of them was the perfect pick. Teenagers were too young and easily distracted for the nearly-permanent position Lily required, and Harry was not going to be given _anything_ but the perfect babysitter as far as Lily was concerned.

Not for the first time, she considered taking Narcissa up on her offer to lend her a couple of the Malfoy house elves for a few years. The blonde claimed that they were trained to take care of babies, but Lily had her reservations. A house elf was too… subservient and eager to please. As much as Lily adored her boy, she knew Harry needed a keeper just a _tad_ sterner than a whimpering house elf.

 _If only Dora was_ older, Lily sighed. But, being only nine, Nymphadora Tonks was far too young for such a responsibility. _She needs a sitter herself,_ Lily thought and smiled, remembering that Andromeda and Ted had mentioned that they had wanted to go out on a date tonight and they had left Dora in Narcissa's care who had volunteered to give her niece a sleepover at the Manor.

 _So, teenagers are too young, huh_ , she mused as she made her way back to the living room where awaited the next person to be interviewed.

Arabella Figg had been recommended to Lily by Dumbledore himself when she had explained her predicament to the Headmaster. And she was no teenager. The woman seemed old enough to be Harry's grandmother. Dumbledore had mentioned she was a widow and a squib, Lily remembered, but she didn't recall him saying anything about her having children. She frowned, reminding herself to keep an open mind.

"So, Mrs. Figg," Lily said lightly as she poured them lemonade and sat on the armchair across the elderly woman. "I would like to explain my situation first, and then, if the conditions are agreeable for you, you can tell me more about yourself and how we could proceed. Would that be alright?"

"Perfectly alright with me," Arabella Figg answered solemnly. She was a small, thin woman. Her brown hair was streaked with a few grey hairs here and there, hidden beneath a hairnet. A small kneazle cub with soft, white fur streaked with silvery spots was purring in her lap as she petted it softly. _Does she go everywhere with a cat?_ Lily wondered, remembering the tomcat James had adopted in Godric's Hollow before forcing her mind to focus.

"As I'm sure Dumbledore has told you," Lily began, "I am to start my job at Hogwarts in September. But I expect to start going there often in the next four weeks because I need to prepare the Dungeons." She respected Horace's approach to teaching Potions, but she had a few ideas of her own about the place she needed to implement before the term began. "Once the term starts, I will have to be there every day, Monday to Friday. I will be home every evening, at around nine, as well as for the weekends, as I don't need to be in Hogwarts to grade the students' essays and homework, but on certain events I may need to be present even if it's not during the working week, for which I will try to always duly inform you. During the holiday breaks for Christmas and Easter, I will be, of course, home, so you won't have to sacrifice your plans."

"All sounds very reasonable," Mrs. Figg nodded, then cooed at the kneazle in her lap, "Doesn't it, Snowy?"

Lily blinked. _Okay, what?_ Truth be told, James had also loved to talk to their cat, as if the animal could understand him... but Arabella Figg was projecting a bit too much of an eccentric vibe, to the point where Lily was almost sure that the hunt for Harry's babysitter would have to continue past Mrs. Figg and her kitten. _Still, Dumbledore vouched for her, it would be rude not to even hear what she has to say and offer._

"Alright," Lily cleared her throat and took a sip of lemonade. The cold, slightly tart drink felt good in the almost sweltering summer day. "As to my son, I have to warn you, Harry can be a handful at times. He has a toy broom, but he is _not_ to fly it inside the house. He likes to test his boundaries, so I try not to spoil him rotten, but any disciplining measures you take will have to be confirmed with me beforehand, Mrs. Figg. I'm sure you understand."

The conversation continued on like that and after Mrs. Figg left with her little kneazle in tow, Lily leaned back in her chair, sighing heavily. She had to admit that the elderly woman seemed a better option than some girl from Hogsmeade, but Lily was far from convinced yet. _I will have to continue with the interviews after we get done with that ceremony tomorrow._ And how was she supposed to juggle between that and the renovation she had planned for the Dungeons at Hogwarts, she had no idea.

Glancing at the clock, Lily saw that it was almost time for lunch. Harry was napping upstairs after he had sneaked into her bedroom and awoken her at dawn to make her play with him on the quidditch play set, but he was going to be awake soon. Just as she was getting up from her chair, she was startled by the sound of her front door crashing open.

"Lily?" she heard Sev's voice echoing urgently in the hallway as heavy footsteps thudded across the floor.

"Sev? What's going on?" she cried when he almost ran into the living room, flanked by his three Aurors.

She gasped. Sev's face was pale and taut, his jaw was bruised and his eyes exhausted and sunken beneath heavy shadows. _Is that... blood?_ she asked herself, looking at the dark splatters on his shirt. He wore the same clothes he had yesterday, on the birthday. The Aurors did not look much better, covered in soot, their faces tired. One of John Dawlish's eyes was swollen and blackened as if he had been in a fistfight, and the edges of Kendra Shacklebolt's heavy longcoat looked _singed._

Lily jumped up and rushed to Sev who immediately embraced her.

"Sev? What's happened? Are you alright? Where were you?" she babbled, unable to stop herself. Her heart was beating madly inside her chest. "Are you hurt? Is everything okay?"

She heard a small chuckle from one of the Aurors, Gawain Robards, she thought.

Sev did not answer her. Instead he lowered his head and let out his breath as if he was relieved. Then, with Lily still in his arms, he turned to Shacklebolt, "Search the house," he ordered curtly. "Make sure there's nobody here but us. John," he added, looking at Dawlish as the black Auror climbed swiftly upstairs. "Wards. Everywhere you deem necessary, and then put _more_."

"Sev!" Lily was almost ready to panic. She gripped the collar of his grey shirt and forcefully turned his head so she could look up at his black eyes. "What is going on?! Tell me!"

"Oh, nothing much, just a bunch of Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban last night," she heard Gawain Robards say lightly. "Don't worry, Ma'am, John, Kendra and the boss'll round them up before you can blink."

Sev turn to glare at the bearded Auror who was leaning casually on the wall at the edge between the living room and the hallway. An old, worn-looking duffel bag was laying on the floor at his feet.

"Shut up," Sev nearly _hissed_ at Robards through clenched teeth. "And start unpacking. The guest room is above. Check up with Shacklebolt while you're at it." Then he turned his gaze back to Lily, his eyes immediately softening. "Lily," he said gently, "have a seat. We need to talk."

 _It's starting again,_ she thought as Sev guided her back into the chair she had sprung from. _Oh, Merlin, it's starting again._ Then, panic gripped her.

"Harry!" she cried, clutching at Sev's arms. "I have to get Harry!"

"It's okay, calm down," Sev urged her as they both heard the stairs creaking and turned their heads to see Kendra Shacklebolt descending towards Lily's living room.

"All clear," the Auror said to Sev. "Your son's still asleep in his bed, Ma'am," she added when she saw Lily's expression, trying to sound reassuring.

And then Sev proceeded to briefly explain to her something about a riot in Azkaban, and fiendfyre and a small gang of Death Eaters managing to escape from the island in the chaos. Lily didn't really comprehend his words, at least not fully. All she could think was that the nightmare had come back.

Sev apparently noticed it, because he grabbed her small hands in his, caressing her skin with his long, strong fingers. "Don't be frightened, Lily," he whispered. "I don't really believe that they'll come for you or Harry, but I had to be sure. They'll try to escape from Britain or go into hiding, but I'm going to find them and I'm going to stop them. For good. I promise. I'm not going to allow them to harm a single hair on your head. I promise, Lily, I promise."

He continued on like that until her breathing calmed down and she could think rationally.

And when that happened, Lily had already found the core of cold, iron determination buried deep beneath her fears and instincts. _I will not cower. Not this time, not after Godric's Hollow. Never again._ _If I do, they win._ She took a deep breath and lifted her head, looking straight at Sev's dark eyes. He returned her stare, a look of mild surprise etched on his weary face.

"I am not afraid," Lily declared. "You said you're going to find them, Sev?"

"I will."

"Good," she said. "Because if you don't and they come after Harry, I'll kill them all."

She heard Robards whistling cheerily as he walked down the stairs to join them. "Quite the lady you got there, boss. Good for you."

Sev took a deep breath and turned towards the Auror who was grinning sheepishly at him. "I am not going to miss you at _all_ , Gawain."

The blonde Auror grimaced. "Oh, come on," he sighed. "Just because you three get the fun job, it doesn't mean you have to rub the salt in."

"This is not about having fun," Sev growled at him. "I mean it. I better not learn you did not take your duties seriously when we get back."

Robards' smile waned and he looked at Sev with a serious expression in his eyes. "I'm not going to put her at risk, boss. I'm not an ass."

"You absolutely are," Kendra Shacklebolt smirked as she elbowed her fellow Auror, then she sobered when she saw the expression on Sev's face. "He won't muck it up, boss. And neither are we."

"Wait, wait a minute," Lily raised her hands, cutting into the Aurors' banter. "What are you all talking about?" she asked, a suspicion already sneaking inside her mind.

"I'm not about to leave you without protection, Lily," Sev said simply. "Robards will stay here with you until we've managed to capture them. If the worst happens and they attack you while we search for them, he will contact us immediately and we'll come."

Lily shook her head. "No." She looked at the blonde Auror and added, "No offense, Mr. Robards, but I don't need a bodyguard. I am starting at Hogwarts in September, I can't have you following me into the school."

"Lily, this is not up for a debate," Sev frowned. "Robards stays."

"The boss will catch those bastards before the school year starts, Ma'am, don't you worry," the Auror gave her a crooked smile.

"Harry is the one that needs protection, not me," Lily said to Sev, her aggravation slowly building.

"Which is why you have to write to Dumbledore and tell him to find another to fill your place." Lily could see his jaw clenching stubbornly.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed. "You _know_ I already agreed to take the position! I'm not going back on my word just because of a bunch of escaped convicts!"

Sev cocked his head slightly, studying her. "And what about Harry?" he asked, trying to guilt her into accepting his decision. "Are you going to leave him here just so you don't disappoint the old man?"

 _Nice try, Sev._ "Harry will be with me at all times," she said calmly, her decision made. She would just have to add a few more tweaks to the renovations of the Dungeons so he wouldn't disrupt the lessons too often. _At least I won't be bothering with prospective babysitters anymore._

"And so will Robards," Sev stressed.

"No."

" _Damn it, Lily!_ " his face darkened in anger. "Are you really going to fight me on this? Now?"

"You'll need him more than I will," Lily said. "I'm going to be spending most of my time in Hogwarts, and Harry will be with me there. I doubt the Death Eaters can do much to us there." She knew from experience that Hogwarts was far from invincible... but with Voldemort dead, his agents would have to be insane to try and break into the school, especially when they were on the run, with the whole Ministry on their trail.

"I _can_ write to Dumbledore myself, you know," Sev said sullenly. "I _can_ convince him to find someone else."

"And if you do that, Severus Snape," Lily said quietly, the very image of tranquil fury, "I'll make those Death Eaters seem like a walk in the park to you."

Sev just watched her for a few moments. Then he sighed and got up, grunting softly as his hand rested on his bad leg. "Fine," he said, looking down at her. "You win. You can go to Hogwarts and waste your time trying to teach something to those dimwitted brats there to your heart's content. But," he raised a finger, "Gawain will be coming with you and that's final. Kendra, John" he nodded as the last of the Aurors came into the house from the backyard, apparently finished with placing wards around the property, "let's go. We have work to do. Goodbye, Lily. This will be over soon."

As he left with Shacklebolt and Dawlish, Lily stared at him, feeling strangely empty inside. After she had shaken the initial wave of fear off and had found the strength within, she felt surprisingly tired. But her determination did not waver. Sev thought she was being stubborn, but he could not understand. Lily doubted that anyone could.

She had been afraid once. She had listened to that fear and had went to hiding with James and Harry. And all that accomplished was to make them gnaw on that growing terror, standing still like the prey hypnotized by the predator. Until one night, on Hallowe'en, that predator had come for them and all that hiding gave them nothing but a house to die in. She knew it in her bones. James had died at Godric's Hollow, and if it hadn't been for Sev, she and Harry would have met the same fate, crying, terrified and weak.

Lily had clawed her way out of sorrow and loss, step by agonizing step. She had fought at Hogwarts and even though she hadn't been the one to land the killing blow on Voldemort, she had made sure that he had felt at least a fraction of the suffering he had brought her.

And she refused to be weak again, now when danger loomed above them once more. If the Death Eaters wanted to come, she would face them. She would not cower, wallowing in terror and tears. Wand against wand, and she would do whatever it took to defend her son. She would die for Harry, and if needed, she would kill for Harry too. _Whether Sev likes it or not._

"So," she heard Gawain Robards clearing his throat. "This is a little awkward, yeah?"

She turned to look at him and studied him for a few seconds. He was a bit older than her and Sev, but not by a lot. The shaggy mop of hair, the bearded face, the leather uniform beneath a heavy brown coat... an Auror, head to toe. She knew that Sev had had his pick from the whole Auror Office when he had first formed his team, and she trusted his judgement. She _had_ to admit that if it came to a fight, it would be better to have one of Sev's Aurors on her side... but his presence was only to make matters at Hogwarts even more difficult than they were going to be. Lily vaguely wondered what was Narcissa going to make of all this when she got up from her chair and headed to check on Harry.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Robards," she said to him as she climbed up, "I guess we're stuck with each other for now."

* * *

Later that evening Lily was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the flickering light of her TV. The image was not very good. Back when Lily had moved in, Ted had explained that the signal was never broadcasted well over wizarding villages due to the high residue of magic energy everywhere. Still, it was watchable. Harry was dozing in her lap, sleepy after dinner. Gawain Robards was sitting on the edge of his chair, the plate of half-eaten leftover birthday cake forgotten in his hands. He was enraptured by the TV and the face of the woman who was reading the news. _He's from a pureblood family, or close enough_ , Lily noticed. It was easy to get to that conclusion, for wizards and witches who hadn't grown up with at least a touch of muggle life tended to be utterly fascinated by it. Sev had told her once of a wizard in the Ministry who was downright _mesmerized_ and even obsessed with all things muggle, having become something of a laughingstock because of it.

Thinking of that made Lily wonder how was Narcissa faring. _Has she heard about the escaped prisoners?_ Lily frowned suddenly. What if the Death Eaters targeted her instead of Lily and Harry? _No_ , Lily shook her head. Malfoy Manor was a very secure place, and the Death Eaters would risk too much for something that would be nothing but petty revenge for Lucius' decision to turn against them at the very end. If Lily had escaped from Azkaban, she wouldn't have wasted time on petty revenge. _Then again, who knows how much the stay in Azkaban has warped their brains?_ It wasn't exactly as if Voldemort's servants had been among the most mentally stable people in the first place.

Still, Lily hoped that her friend was going to be alright.

Then, suddenly the fireplace was filled with green, crackling flames.

" _SHIT!_ " Gawain Robards yelled, waking Harry up. He jumped on his feet, cake flying into the air, and whipped his wand out if its holster on his belt. He pointed it sharply at the fireplace, ready to blast whoever came out of it into oblivion.

Lily jolted up, holding Harry with one arm, the other reaching for the wand left on the table in front of her.

Her eyes bore into the whirling flames, trying to make out a shape or anything. She thought she saw movement...

... and then Dora stumbled out from the fireplace, falling on her knees on the carpet.

"Aunt Lily!" the young girl cried plaintively. "Help!"

"Dora?!" Lily rushed towards the child, her heart beating madly. "Lower that, damn you!" She snapped at Robards who was holding his wand pointed at Dora. "She's my best friend's niece! You'll scare her! Dora, sweetie," she knelt next to the daughter of Andromeda and Ted, cupping her face with her hand, "What's going on? Are you okay?"

The girl was panting, ready to start crying. Her hair was changing color from her usual wavy brown to bone-white, a clear sign of her distress.

"Aunt Cissy sent me here," she hiccuped, "We got afraid... She thinks there's s-something... She went to check on Draco... Please, Aunt Lily, you have to help! There was someone inside the Manor!"


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **August 1, 1982, Malfoy Manor**

Narcissa Malfoy looked at her niece with a mixture of affection, pride and regret as Nymphadora was showing Draco how to toss breadcrumbs to the pair of white peacocks that were strutting around the sunlit garden.

Affection because Nymphadora was a brilliant, beautiful and bubbly child who had accepted the recent and unexpected revelation that her mother had a living sister and that she herself had a little cousin with an ease and childish grace Narcissa had not thought possible from someone who was half a Black. And yet young Nymphadora had been _delighted_ to meet Draco and be his big cousin. Narcissa's boy had quickly grown fond of her too.

Pride because Andromeda's daughter was a Metamorhmagus, a gift so rare that many wizards would consider it a sign of greatness to come. Nymphadora could change the color and the shape of her hair as easily as another girl might blink, and she was getting quite good at rearranging her facial features at will, learning to harness and control her wondrous gift. She loved utilizing her abilities to make Draco hoot and laugh, as she had demonstrated many times on Harry's birthday yesterday, but Narcissa knew that one day her niece would probably use it for more than mere entertainment.

And regret... because she knew that if it hadn't been for the many disasters and losses that had befallen them all last year, she never would have gotten to meet Nymphadora. Narcissa hadn't even known of the girl's existence until she got in touch with Andromeda soon after 1981 had ended. Sometimes she even wondered how would have Lucius reacted if he had ever gotten to meet his niece. Would he have been proud because she was a Metamorphmagus? Would he have approved of the blooming affection between her and Draco? _Or would he have seen only a half-blood child born in the family of pariahs?_ But the worse question was, would have Narcissa herself grown to care for Nymphadora had she not been imprisoned in Hogwarts and, almost consequently, befriended Lily?

Narcissa had no answers for these questions.

But she knew one thing – she was glad that Andromeda had become a part of her life once more, and that her big sister had brought in her lovely daughter as well.

"Mistress?" a small voice squeaked next to her and Narcissa blinked, gazing down at the house elf who had appeared next to her lounge chair holding a tray full of cool drinks and bowls of sliced fruits. "Dobby has brought refreshments for you and the young master, and the young mistress!"

"Very well," Narcissa took the tray from the creature's tiny hands and set it on the garden table. She dismissed the house elf with a simple gesture of her wrist. Narcissa remembered how exasperated Lucius had always been with the Malfoy house elves, muttering under his breath about their insufferable stupidity and often repelling their offending presence with a well-aimed kick or a blow from his cane. Narcissa did not have it in her to actively cause harm to the pathetic creatures and so she very rarely bothered to punish them in the months after she took control of the Malfoy estate... and, to her surprise, they were slowly becoming slightly more efficient and seemed less stupid. She didn't even have to _specifically_ order Dobby to bring those refreshments, instead just informing him earlier that she and the children were going to spend the afternoon in the White Garden. The house elf had noted that they were absent for a while and had decided on his own to go and get them something.

 _At least house elves are better than Lily's odd muggle contraptions_ , Narcissa smirked smugly as she took a slice of pear and bit delicately into it. _Yes, those would do just fine_.

"Dora, Draco," she called to the children, "Come and get something to eat."

"Yes, Aunt Cissy!" her niece cried cheerily as she picked Draco up and strode towards the lounge chairs that were sitting beneath the shade of an ancient oak. Narcissa tried not to cringe when she heard the way the little girl had addressed her. _Aunt_ made her feel like an old, dry prune, and her sisters and cousins had been the only ones who had ever called her "Cissy"; now that Bellatrix, Sirius and Regulus were all dead, Andromeda was literally the only person in the world to still call her with that dreadful pet name. _I guess I can't fault the child for picking it up from her mother._

Draco was diligently and carefully deposited in her lap, but her son was too giddy to eat the piece of soft peach Narcissa tried to feed him.

"Do more! Do more!" he laughed at his cousin. "Do Unca Sev!"

Nymphadora chuckled good-naturedly and furrowed her brow as if she was trying to focus.

Then, in front of Narcissa's eyes, her niece shook her head, her hair suddenly longer, a little straighter and turned pure black. But that wasn't all. Her small nose that had the typical, aquiline regal shape in many of the faces of the Black women through the centuries was growing much too long and hooked for her childish face. Then she scowled at Draco.

"Eat your fruits, Draco," she commanded in mock-deep voice.

Draco clapped enthusiastically with his tiny hands as he nearly _crowed_ with laughter. Even Narcissa smiled... although she was sure that if Lily's boyfriend was here, he wouldn't find it amusing at all. Severus had always been too touchy. Then she frowned, realizing she had referred to him as Lily's boyfriend inside her mind.

As far as Narcissa _knew_ , nothing... untoward had happened between him and her friend. And she was feeling fairly convinced that she would have been able to pry it out from Lily if it had. But seeing them together yesterday was somewhat confusing. Lily was clearly sending him signals that she was interested, with the way she had dressed and made herself pretty, and had eyes only for him after he had arrived unfashionably late... and yet the dolt had not caught on. _Maybe she's really not consciously aware of it yet?_ Narcissa wondered, then she shrugged inwardly. That particular mess was not any of her business.

Thinking of Lily and Severus made her remember her sister and, she guessed, her brother-in-law. Andromeda had almost talked her ear off yesterday in her excitement about the date she and Ted were going to have. _One would think they haven't been married for a decade!_ She couldn't help but wonder how it would have been if she and Lucius had lasted as long as Andromeda and Ted had… but that road led nowhere. _Everyone's got someone these days, it seems._ Andromeda had Ted, Lily had… whatever it was between her and Severus. But Narcissa didn't have anyone, not anymore. She shook her head lightly, trying to force the thoughts of Lucius out of her mind. Normally, when she was with her little boy, or simply going through her day, Narcissa was able to lock those thoughts away and just _pretend_ that she was alright. The nights were harder, when she lay awake in the now-too big bed she had once shared with him and the thoughts and the memories came like a flood. _Lily's husband died in front of her too. She seems to have gotten over it. Why can't I?_

Draco's voice got her attention.

"Me!" he chirped. "Do me, Dora!" It seemed that neither her son nor her niece had noticed Narcissa's faltering. _That's a relief._

"Okay," Nymphadora's face was back to normal, though she still had Severus' black hair. She rolled her eyes and smirked, then she turned in her lounge chair so she could look directly at Draco who was still plopped in Narcissa's lap.

Narcissa saw one corner of her niece's mouth quirk up in thought, as if she contemplated how to approach this. Then she apparently decided to proceed with her transformation as she always did – hair first.

Even as young as he was, it was already becoming evident that Draco had his father's looks, his coloring lighter than Narcissa's own. His hair was straight and flaxen, almost white-blonde. But as Nymphadora tried to mimic the color, she forgot to adjust the length she had expanded when she was making fun of Severus. And suddenly, her niece had the same hair as Lucius had once had, long and straight, falling almost to her shoulders, with the color of shining platinum.

Narcissa couldn't take it. She shivered.

"Enough of that, Dora," she commanded gently but firmly. The girl tore her eyes from Draco's curious face and looked at Narcissa apprehensively. Her hair immediately returned to the shorter brown that was her natural look. "Come on," Narcissa made herself smile at her niece in order to assure the child that everything was alright. "We've been outside for a while. Let's go back to the Manor and we'll see what we want to have for dinner."

Nymphadora nodded, a little hesitant, but she followed when Narcissa got up from the lounge chair, Draco in her arms.

* * *

"I'm sorry," her niece said nearly an hour later when Narcissa was resting in the summer solar. She was staring at the cold, unlit fireplace without really seeing it. She had handed over Draco to the house elves to give him a bath and lay him down for a late afternoon nap.

Narcissa blinked, startled and turned to look at Nymphadora. As if driven by some unknown instinct, she reached an arm out, silently inviting the young girl to come to her on the huge, velvety couch.

"What for, Dora?" Narcissa asked, a little confused, once her niece had climbed on and cuddled tentatively next to her.

"Earlier, in the garden," the child explained, looking up at Narcissa with her big eyes. "I made you sad, Aunt Cissy." Then she turned her eyes until she found Lucius' portrait above the fireplace. Narcissa followed her niece's gaze and she understood. "I didn't mean to, to make my hair like his, I promise."

Narcissa turned her grey eyes and studied her niece for a second. "Dora," she said, "you don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong." With that she pressed the girl to her, squeezing her gently. The desire to offer consolation and show affection to those she cared for had come to her relatively late in life. Grimmauld Place had not been a place for consolation and affection, and the House of Black was made by people who sneered at those concepts. And even after she married Lucius, it had taken time and effort on her side – and a lot of patience on his – until she had managed to overcome this.

But she was a different person now. And she wanted to comfort her niece... the same niece she never even knew until half a year ago. Life was a strange thing.

"When Mummy first told me that I have an aunt and a little cousin, I was so happy," Nymphadora told her softly. "I wish I had met Uncle Lucius too. He looks so... handsome."

 _Oh, child..._ How could Narcissa say to that innocent little girl that "Uncle Lucius" may have despised her because her father was not from a wizarding family? She shook her head inwardly. Whatever Lucius would have thought of Nymphadora, it didn't matter anymore. As far as Narcissa was concerned, the murderous prejudices and the dreams of a pureblood world had died with the Dark Lord. Lucius was gone, but she was still here and in that half a year, she had grown to love little Nymphadora Tonks.

"He was," she agreed, just to say something and not let the silence cause discomfort to the the child. She felt Nymphadora resting her head on her chest.

"Aunt Cissy?"

"Hm?"

"Will you tell me how you got married?"

Narcissa couldn't help but chuckle. Andromeda had warned her that in the past year her daughter had grown from being nearly repulsed at witnessing her mother and father sharing even a kiss to loving sappy stories, never stopping to bug Andromeda and Ted to tell her about some romantic moment or other from their youth. _Then again... me and Lucius, we weren't exactly like my sister and Ted._ She didn't want to lie or refuse Dora's request, but she would have to choose her words carefully.

"Alright then," she said lightly. "Huh," she smiled, "I don't know where to start."

"When you met him for the first time," her niece suggested.

"Well, we met each other when we began to study in Hogwarts," Narcissa said, "We were a little older than you, and we were both sorted in Slytherin."

"Were you best friends like Aunt Lily and Uncle Sev?" Nymphadora asked, then she made a contemplative face. "Am I going to be in Slytherin too?"

 _So you have questioned Lily too, eh, little one?_ Her niece was quite inquisitive, more so than Narcissa remembered herself to have been at her age.

"No, not like them. We didn't have a lot in common, and we were very little," Narcissa admitted. "And I don't know about Slytherin, Dora. Everyone in our family has been in Slytherin... well, _almost_ everyone," she added, thinking briefly of Sirius. "But you might take after your father. Which house was he sorted in?"

"Hufflepuff."

 _Loyal, hardworking and honest, then._ Andromeda could have done worse, she supposed – he might have been a bumbling Gryffindor or an eccentric Ravenclaw.

"So, you could become a little badger too," Narcissa teased her niece who giggled cheerily, then she shrugged gently. "It won't matter for another two years, little one, and when your first day comes, the sorting hat will decide."

"Okay," Nymphadora said, a little hesitantly. "But Aunt Cissy, what about your story?"

"Oh..." Narcissa cleared her throat. "What have your parents told you about how they got together?"

"Um..." her niece seemed to ponder it for a moment. "Only that they got married after they finished school and ran away. They've told me more stories about after the wedding. Mummy told me that her parents were mean." Nymphadora frowned. "Were they?"

 _If you only knew,_ Narcissa thought sadly _._ "They were," she nodded. "They didn't want her to marry your father."

Nymphadora's head shot up and she stared at Narcissa in alarm. Her brown hair suddenly turned an almost fluorescent amber. "Why?"

 _Gah. I'm not any good at this._ How was she to explain _that?_ The truth was going to be both cruel and difficult to understand for the young girl. Narcissa had to find a way to both bend it and avoid an outright lie.

"Calm down, little one," she squeezed her niece's narrow shoulders, noticing how her hair slowly returned to its normal coloring. "My family is... very rich," she said slowly. _There. That's close enough to the truth, and safer._ "And they wanted your Mummy to marry someone who was rich too."

"Even if they didn't love each other?"

"That didn't matter to our parents, little one," Narcissa grimaced.

"But that's awful!" Nymphadora exclaimed. Then, she faltered. "Mummy and Daddy won't make me marry someone I don't love when I grow up, won't they?"

 _Oh balls!_ She was making it worse and worse. "No, no, Dora, no!" Narcissa vehemently shook her head. "They won't. I promise you. Your Mummy married your Daddy because she loved him, even if he wasn't rich. Okay?"

"Okay," Nymphadora settled down, looking at Narcissa with trusting eyes that almost broke the blonde's heart. "But what's that got to do with how you married Uncle Lucius?"

"It... has, a little. You see, Dora, after your parents married each other and ran away, my parents were _livid_." Narcissa laughed, a little bitterly. "And they wouldn't risk letting another daughter to listen to her heart. They, um," she hesitated, wondering how much would be appropriate to tell. She didn't especially want to find herself in Andromeda's bad graces because she told her daughter stories that were not meant for children. _So we're going to skip everything involving Bellatrix, then_. "They wanted me to marry a man that they had chosen. He was rich too, so my father was set to move on with the match." _Well, that, and the prospective groom's big brother was already married to the aunt you'd best never hear anything of._ Even now, years later, Narcissa still shuddered at the thought that her father had been willing to give her to Rabastan Lestrange just to strengthen the bonds between their Houses in not one, but two pureblood marriages. "But the man they had chosen was... bad."

"Bad?"

"Yes, Dora, very bad. He was mean, much meaner than my parents. He was cruel."

"What happened?" Nymphadora asked, completely enraptured.

"I went to your Uncle Lucius and told him about my father's plans." It wasn't the _entire_ truth, but it would do for the purpose of giving Nymphadora the simplified, child-friendly version of the events. "We were already... _friends_... by then, and, as you can see, he was much richer than the man my father wanted me to marry." _Well, not really._ The House of Malfoy was indeed staggeringly more powerful than the almost extinct line of the notorious Lestrange brothers, but at the time Lucius' father was still alive and he had been the one making the decisions in Malfoy Manor. Lucius himself had barely managed to earn his Dark Mark at that point.

"So he knew that he loved you and he married you instead of the bad man?" Nymphadora grinned. "To keep him away, and to make your parents happy? Oh, Aunt Cissy, that's so _romantic_!"

Narcissa smiled at her niece. _She doesn't need to know that I only intended to fuck Lucius so I could lose my virginity and hope that either he would take responsibility for me or that Father was going to be so enraged that he'd annul the betrothal between me and Rabastan._ She had known that Lucius fancied her ever since that day when he had saved her from Thorfin Rowle's advances while they were still students at Hogwarts, and her gamble had paid off. And after the deed had been done, Lucius had indeed taken responsibility and had somehow convinced Abraxas Malfoy and the Dark Lord both to approve a match between him and Narcissa, ruling out that one Black was more than enough for the House of Lestrange. Love had come to Narcissa and Lucius after the wedding... or at least to _her_ , as during their honeymoon Lucius had confessed to her that if they hadn't listened to him, he would have simply taken her and they would have fled from Britain, mirroring Andromeda and Ted's actions in an even more melodramatic spectacle. That had been the first crack in the armor she had encased her heart with.

Nymphadora's voice tore Narcissa out of her thoughts. "I'm sorry he's gone, Aunt Cissy." Then she startled her by giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Narcissa couldn't help but smile halfheartedly. "It's alright, little one," she lied easily. "I have Draco, and you, and your Mummy and your Daddy, and your Aunt Lily and your cousin Harry. Now," she said, perhaps just a tad too brightly. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Hmmm…" the girl chewed her bottom lip. "Can we have chips with ice cream?"

"Chi… what?" Narcissa's eyebrows shot up. _Is that a muggle dish?_ It sounded disgusting. Really, prejudice aside, what kind of an insane person ate chips with ice cream?

Nymphadora shrugged. "Grandad showed it to me last summer. It's so tasty!"

 _Grandad?_ Since Narcissa knew for a _fact_ that Cygnus Black would never have wanted to have anything to do with Nymphadora… or chips with ice cream, for that matter, she assumed that the child was referring to Ted's father. _So it is a muggle lunacy, indeed_.

"I think we're out of ice cream, little one," Narcissa answered carefully, trying to steer the choice of dinner towards a safer shore. "What else would you like?"

"Pizza," her niece chirped easily.

"Pizza it is, then," Narcissa said agreeably, then frowned. "Dora?"

"Yes?"

"What's "pizza"?"

* * *

Dinner turned to be a grueling trial for the culinary skills of the Malfoy house elves, but to Narcissa's satisfaction, they had managed to pull through. _So this is pizza?_ she wondered, eyeing the dishes served on the long table at the dining hall. It looked so… mugglishly simple, a flatbread crust with tomatoes, Milanese salami and, per Nymphadora's instructions, lots of melted Mozzarella and Provolone cheese, and spices she couldn't even remember and identify. Narcissa strongly suspected that most muggles never made their pizza with ingredients of such quality as could be found in the Manor's numerous pantries. But Nymphadora was a guest and Narcissa saw no harm in obliging her.

Besides, and she was never going to admit that to Lily, pizza was not so bad. Perhaps a little too heavy for Narcissa's taste, but it smelled good and was strangely delicious, in a more mundane, muggle sense of the word. Draco certainly had seemed to enjoy it, considering that he had managed to smear tomato sauce up to his hairline despite the efforts of the house elves who helped him eat. Nymphadora was pleased too, and as far as Narcissa was concerned, if the children went to bed sated and happy, all was well.

After they were finished, Draco was sent to have another bath before the house elves were to tuck him in for the night. Narcissa and Nymphadora went back to the summer solar since her niece was far from sleepy yet. Nymphadora had wanted to test out the enormous pool-like marble tub in the bathhouse before she went to bed, but Narcissa had insisted that she had to wait at least for half an hour since she had just eaten.

Nymphadora was just showing her her collection of Chocolate Frog cards, when a sudden feeling of unease crawled up Narcissa's spine. It was an odd and disconcerting feeling, like someone was watching her. The summer night was warm, but for some reason she could feel goosebumps on her skin. She shivered.

The blonde witch shook her head, trying to chase the unpleasant feeling away and to focus on her niece's voice. She was proudly telling her how her father had managed to find her a card depicting Uric the Oddball. Narcissa glanced at the mad wizard leering at them from the card, the jellyfish he wore instead of a hat wobbling and glistening on his head, but she couldn't focus. _Hmph. What is going on?_

Then, both she and Nymphadora jumped up as they heard footsteps from the floor above. One of the bloody house elves was making a racket again, no doubt. _I understand now why Lucius was always short on patience with them_.

"Dobby!" Narcissa called sternly, waiting for the creature to appear in front of them.

Nothing happened.

Narcissa frowned. _What's going on?_

"Dobby!" she raised her voice this time.

"Aunt Cissy?" Nymphadora looked confused and alarmed, her hair curling and getting slightly lighter in shade. "What's happening?"

Then they heard the steps again. This time the sound echoed faint, as if it was coming from further into the Manor. And, suddenly, Narcissa felt as if a cold hand grabbed her by the throat.

Those were not the sounds of a house elf. The pauses between each stride were longer, much longer than they ought to be for creatures smaller than Dora. And while the steps weren't exactly thundering through the house, they sounded firmer and heavier than those of a simple-minded house elf. _That's a man,_ Narcissa realized.

Someone was inside the Manor.

In that moment, Narcissa's consciousness fell before the onslaught of her instincts. She grabbed her wand and flicked it at the fireplace. Suddenly flames were swooshing and crackling in the warm summer solar. Narcissa strode to the fireplace, grabbed the box of Floo powder and threw a handful into the fire, muttering Lily's address. The glow turned deep green as the enchanted flames grew in strength.

"Dora, come here," Narcissa commanded, her voice steady, belying the fear that was coursing through her veins. The young girl obeyed, her big eyes apprehensive and fearful. "Listen to me, Dora. There's someone inside the house," she said, almost matter-of-factly. She was a Black and a Slytherin. She would not give in to panic. Cooler heads always prevailed, always. Lucius' death had imparted this lesson to Narcissa more than well. "I have to go get Draco. You," she grabbed her niece by the shoulders, trying to be both firm and gentle. _If I show fear, she will get terrified._ "are going through the Floo to Aunt Lily. Tell her to get help. Severus and his Auror squad, if she can. Do you understand?"

"Go t-to Aunt Lily," Nymphadora nodded, her lips trembling, "Get h-help. I understand."

"Good girl," Narcissa leaned and placed a brief kiss on her niece's forehead. "Now go."

"B-but what about _you_?!"

Narcissa took a deep breath. She _loved_ Nymphadora. But this was not the time for the patient and kind Narcissa. She had to go to Draco at once and she had to get her sister's daughter to safety.

"Go, I said!" Narcissa said angrily, using her grip on the child's shoulders to literally _shove_ her into the fireplace.

Narcissa watched Nymphadora disappear, knowing she would appear in Lily's house in less than a moment. Then she extinguished the fire with a single flick of her wand.

As she turned from the fireplace, Narcissa heard the steps again. Her throat felt dry and tight. The sounds were coming from above and not extremely close. The intruder didn't seem to be heading towards Draco's room, but Narcissa could not take the chance.

She closed her eyes and disapparated.

With a soft _crack!_ Narcissa apparated next to Draco's bed.

Her little boy was sound asleep, breathing deeply and calmly.

Narcissa's pale eyes swept over every corner of the room, making sure that nothing seemed out of place.

She had just began whispering protective charms and placing wards against dark magic around her son's bed and across the room, when she heard the crash. It was distant, but it got her attention immediately.

It had come from _her_ bedroom.

Narcissa swallowed heavily, internally debating what she should do.

The smart decision would be to stay here, reinforce the wards and wait for Lily to send the cavalry of useless thugs that the Ministry cosseted. And if the crash had come from any other room in the Manor, she would have done so without even hesitating. If the crash had come from a room that was _only_ Narcissa's, she would have sat down and waited.

But that bedroom was not hers alone. She had shared it with Lucius. In stark contrast to most pureblood marriages, she and Lucius had always slept in the same bed, as a husband and wife ought to. That bedroom had been as much his as it was hers. It had been _theirs_. It was the place that still held what was left of Lucius' personal items and the tokens of their marriage. Whoever had dared to try and pillage it, was going to pay for that with their life. And if the Ministry objected to that brand of personal justice, well, Lucius used to say that everyone in the Wizengamot had a price, and one thing Narcissa Malfoy had in abundance was gold.

And so Narcissa disapparated from Draco's room, leaving the door and the windows locked, just as they had been before she had come to see if her boy was safe.

She found herself in the hallway that led to the master bedroom. It was strangely dark. Magic candles of white beeswax used to always hover in the air, bathing the hallway in a soft glow. But now it was pitch black. Narcissa felt the little hairs on her neck standing up. Her heart was fluttering and she had to will it to slow down.

 _Who would be so wretchedly stupid to try and rob a Malfoy?_ Narcissa wondered, as she slowly walked in the darkness, her wand pointed straight ahead and ready to attack. It didn't make a lick of sense. The Manor was isolated and it was not a place where just about anyone could walk in as they pleased. No, this was not a mere burglary. Couldn't be. Whoever came here knew what they were doing.

Then she tripped in something that had been lying prone on the carpeted floor. She stumbled forward and had to place a hand on the wall to steady herself.

" _Lumos!_ " Narcissa whispered and pointed her wand down.

The face of a dead house elf stared up at her with glassy, empty eyes.

A sudden urge to retch almost overwhelmed her and Narcissa had to clasp a hand over her mouth, hastily turning away from the dead creature.

Her eyes sought out the door of the bedroom. It was closed, but not entirely. A small stream of moonlight was pouring into the hallway from the slit.

Narcissa gulped down the bile that had risen from the sight of the murdered house elf. She stepped towards the bedroom.

One step, then another. There were no sounds other than her breathing.

She reached the door and pushed it open lightly, prepared to cast a Killing Curse at anyone who might be there.

* * *

When Lily finally found her nearly ten minutes later, Narcissa was sitting on the floor amidst the wreckage, her back to the bed and her knees drawn up.

The large window was ajar, allowing the cool night air and the rays of moonlight to swirl and chase each other across the bedroom, rustling the curtains and drawing queer shadowy shapes on the walls.

The bedroom looked like a battlefield. Pieces of broken furniture across the carpet. Books thrown unceremoniously from the long pine bookshelf, piling on the floor. A porcelain vase upturned on a small table, droplets of water still dripping down at the trampled flowers strewn underneath. Drawers pulled out and thrown everywhere.

Narcissa had not noticed any of it, not really. She was holding a ruined photograph of Lucius, the upper half of it crumpled and torn when it had been thrown in anger across the room. She could still remember the day that picture was taken. It was before Draco was conceived, before the Dark Lord had made the Manor his base of operations. Lucius had brought a man to take their pictures. He had insisted that he wanted the photographs to look serious and regal, as befitted the head of the House of Malfoy and his bride. By that time Narcissa had already fallen in love with him. So she had stood behind the photographer's back, making faces at Lucius the whole time while the man took his pictures, playfully sticking her tongue out and acting like a foolish girl. Her poor husband had not endured. He had tried and tried not to smile at the silly woman behind the photographer and he had failed, miserably. Narcissa had loved that photograph.

"Narcissa?" she slowly raised her eyes from the blooming smile on her husband's lips and blinked slowly when she saw Lily and a bearded man in an Auror uniform behind her. "Are you hurt?" Her friend dropped on one knee in front of Narcissa, her green eyes worried. "Is Draco alright? What happened?"

"Draco is fine," Narcissa said, her voice hollow and hoarse.

Slowly, her fingers loosened their grip on the ruined photo and she let it fall to the ground next to her.

"What happened, Narcissa?" Lily asked again, lifting a hand to brush a lock of blonde hair behind Narcissa's ear. She gasped softly when she saw the wet marks that the tears had left on Narcissa's pale cheeks.

"I… I don't know," Narcissa answered truthfully. "There was someone here. I don't know who it was. I don't know what they wanted, whoever it was, he's gone." She hesitated. " But I'm going to find out. And someone will pay."


	9. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **August 1, 1982, The Hog's Head Inn**

He was dreaming an old dream.

It was a dream of moonlight and blood, of fear and pain.

In the dream, he was still a boy. Not the man he had become, nor the wolf that howled at the full moon, but the boy that he used to be.

He always dreamt of the same night, the night when that boy had died.

As it had happened in life, he dreamt of a child's bedroom and a window creaking sharply as it was forced open. He dreamt of slow, purposeful footsteps, each of them echoing closer and closer. He dreamt of the low, beastly growl that had made him wet the bed and the cruel chortle that had followed. He dreamt of the way his bed had sunken when the man had climbed on top of him, of the malicious glint in the pair of blue eyes that had stared coldly down at him. He dreamt of the grinning mouth full of fangs and the big, strong, calloused hand that had pressed into his mouth and nose, choking him and taking away any chance for him to cry out for his parents. He dreamt of the way he smelled as he had leaned his huge body over him until their foreheads had almost touched; earth and sweat, and something else that he hadn't recognized but had learned later what that coppery scent meant. Blood.

He dreamt of his words, memorized as clearly as if it had all happened yesterday.

"Yes," the man had rasped, taking a sniff at his hair and neck. "You'll do _nicely_. I'm gonna teach your fool of a father a lesson."

He dreamt of the moonlight slowly spilling into the bedroom like a silvery tide, pouring over the figure of the man hunched over him. He dreamt how the man had turned into a monster then, his body contorting and bulging in short, violent bursts beneath his dirt-covered clothes, his skin turning into a coarse, hairy hide, his face no longer human but the scarred muzzle of a wolf-like creature. Only his eyes had remained the same, blue and pitiless.

He dreamt of the bite too, though sometimes he awoke panting and trembling before it would come to it. This night was not as merciful. He felt every stab of the pain and the terror as the fangs dug into his forearm. He was thrashing, pinned under the massive weight. Somehow he managed to pull his face out from under the hairy half-hand, half-paw that was silencing him and he _screamed_. Merlin, how he had screamed... And then his father had rushed into the bedroom, wand in hand, bare-chested, his hazel eyes wide with horror.

" _REMUS!_ " His father had roared in anguish before showering the monster with curses and battle hexes as it dove into the moonlight through the gaping window.

"Remus!" He heard the voice again. It was strange, but this time it did not sound very mich like Lyall Lupin. It sounded gruffer and... older?

Then he felt a hand shaking him, and the wolf snarled in anger and terror.

Remus Lupin snapped his eyes open and launched himself at the intruder, his fists swinging madly in the darkness, trying to rend and claw. He glimpsed strands of long white hair waving around a wrinkled, craggy face as both of them stumbled back in a heap of tangled limbs, bedsheets and animalistic growls.

A fist connected with his jaw, sending him to the hard, wooden floor.

"Bloody Hell!" a panting voice exclaimed. " _What_ were you dreaming of, boy?!"

Remus took a deep breath, rational thought slowly dawning inside his spinning mind. _The inn, I'm at the inn. It was just a dream_. Not that it mattered to the wolf. He could feel it, coiled inside, tense and desperate to lash out against the threat. _There's no threat. Greyback is dead. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him._ And then he could almost feel the meaning behind the inward growl that rumbled in his bones. _Want to kill him again_. _Foe. Threat._ _Killed our dog brother. Hate. Must kill him again._

He took a deep breath, forcing the wolf down into the dark depths of his subconsciousness. The full moon was coming in a few days. He always dreamt that old dream when it drew near.

Still on the floor, Remus blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He sat up, his back touching the bed.

"You better now?"

Lupin looked up at Aberforth. The old man was staring almost accusingly at him, shaking lightly the hand with which he had felled him. Remus' stomach sunk. _I could have killed him_.

"Aberforth," Remus said, "I'm so sorry. It's just... you startled me."

The old man snorted loudly. "I'll say. If that's you startled, then I don't fancy seeing you in panic."

Remus stared at him, then he leaned his head back on the bed and chuckled quietly. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Aberforth strode to the chair where Remus had left his clothes, picked up his trousers and threw them at the werewolf.

"Put some pants on, Lupin," the old man said in a wry voice. As Remus was doing so, the innkeeper turned to the fireplace and lit it with a snap of his gnarled fingers. Warm light filled the room, chasing the shadows away. "Lily's Patronus came by. That glowing doe scared me out of my bloody wits, it did. She says she needs you to come to her house, as quick as possible."

Worry gripped Remus' heart. "Is she alright?" he blurted out, frantically pulling a shirt over his torso. "What's happened? Is Harry…"

"Listen, boy," Aberforth interrupted him and sighed as he threw some Floo powder into the flickering flames. "We've wasted enough minutes already. If the lady says she needs you quick, quick you go. Ask her what's going on yourself. The doe didn't fancy explaining much to me anyway." The green glow of the enchanted fire made Aberforth's face seem even more rugged and harder than usual. "Come on, mate," he gestured to the fireplace.

Remus nodded and stepped into the flames, bending his back in order to enter into the inn's small, stony fireplace.

* * *

Nearly an hour later everyone had gathered in Lily's house. It had taken some time for Remus to catch up on what had happened as he had wadded through his nightmare. Someone had broken into Malfoy Manor, wrecking Narcissa's bedchamber and vanishing before she could confront them. Lily had needed Remus to watch over Harry as she and the Auror had hurried to the Manor to help Narcissa. He glanced at the blonde witch. She was sitting on the couch, her son sleeping nestled in her arms and her sister Andromeda rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. Andromeda's husband had taken their daughter home. As far as Remus understood, the child had been in the Manor at the time when the break-in had happened. Narcissa herself had not said much, looking uncharacteristically dejected and leaving most of the talking to Lily. Remus supposed it was normal for her to be shaken and scared. _A lone woman with a baby and a little girl, everyone would have been scared._ Then the wolf snarled inside his mind, reminding him that Narcissa was more than just _a_ woman. _Padfoot's pack. His blood. Protect. Must find the attacker. Must kill_. He shook his head, trying to wrestle the beast down. The wolf cared little for human inhibitions and the labyrinthine web of their relationships. To it, the fact that there had never been any love lost between Padfoot and his family was irrelevant. To it, the fact that a less than a year ago, Narcissa had been on the side of their enemies, meant nothing. To it, she was of Padfoot's blood and it wanted to protect her… preferably, by ripping the mysterious assailant apart. Then the wolf would have probably ripped Narcissa apart too, because that was the only thing it truly wanted – to kill, indiscriminately and savagely. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief second. _Thank Merlin I still have some of that Wolfsbane potion I bought in Spain_. The concoction was difficult to brew and so costly that Lupin had exhausted nearly all his savings for a few months worth of supply. _It will have to do until September._ When Lily had written to him during his travels in Europe to tell him how she had accepted Dumbledore's proposition to start teaching Potions in Hogwarts, she had promised that she had gotten the Headmaster's leave to brew the potion for him every month. Remus did not know how he would ever be able to repay that kindness. He shoved a hand in his pocket, palming the pack of cigarettes. _Merlin, I need a smoke_.

"Do we suspect who it might have been?" he asked out loud, mostly to distract himself from his own thoughts.

He saw Lily exchanging a quick glance with the Auror that was standing aside from their group. _What is that about?_ The man shrugged, and Lily said, "I think the news have not gotten out yet. Sev came by today," she hesitated for a moment, "There was a breakout in Azkaban."

"In Az…" Andromeda sounded genuinely shocked. "Who has escaped?"

"A band of Death Eaters," Lily answered, "Sev did not tell me any names. Care to share them with us, Mr. Robards?" she looked at the Auror.

The man grimaced. "The boss won't like it," he warned.

Lily scowled at him. "The _boss,_ " she put a heavy emphasis on the word, "will answer to me if any harm comes to my friends because you're all too busy playing self-important coppers."

The Auror's bearded jaw clenched as he glared at Lily.

"Fine," he said, "The ones that didn't die in the chaos and were confirmed as disappeared are Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Evan Rosier, Cantankerus Nott II, Amantia Selwyn, Thorfin Rowle and Peter Pettigrew. You see any of them in your house, Ma'am?" he asked, turning his eyes to Narcissa.

Absently, Remus noticed the unspoken words in the Auror's voice. Lucius Malfoy's _involvement_ with the cause of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters had not been exactly a secret in the Ministry of Magic. After the war Narcissa had not been prosecuted for any suspected affiliation with her late husband's crimes, but in large part that was thanks to the insistence of Dumbledore and Lily – otherwise not even her vast fortune would have been able to buy her a reprieve.

But in reality the only thing Remus really heard when the Auror listed the escaped prisoners was Wormtail's name. Suddenly his vision swam and he had to stand up in order to clear his head. All eyes turned to him. Only Lily's reflected a turmoil and understanding similar to what he had felt.

"Peter Pettigrew," Remus stared intently at the fair-haired Auror. "Are you sure it's _Peter Pettigrew_?"

"That's what the Warden's register said," the man shrugged. "Why? He a big shot?"

"No, he..." Remus hesitated.

"He's the one who got my husband killed," Lily said softly, her gaze growing distant.

The Auror blinked slowly. "Oh..." he muttered and didn't speak again, avoiding everyone's eyes.

 _I have to get out of here,_ Remus swallowed heavily. _I need a smoke._

 _I need a kill,_ the wolf growled silently.

"I'll be... uh, in the yard," he murmured lamely and half-walked, half-stumbled out into the garden through the large French doors.

He patted the pockets of his trousers, searching for his lighter, as his gaze wandered up, towards the night sky. Bright constellations glimmered in the blackness, broken apart here and there by grey clouds. Hogsmeade was remote enough for its sky not to be besmirched by the fumes and the light pollution of the large muggle cities. But Remus' eyes always ignored the stars, forever searching for the moon. _It's almost full_ , he thought and then almost groaned in frustration when he realized that in the commotion earlier he had forgotten his lighter in the inn.

Then a small, pale hand appeared in front of his face and snapped its delicate fingers, producing a small flame that momentarily lit the cigarette that was wobbling lightly between his lips.

As Remus breathed the warm smoke in, he turned sideways and, to his surprise, saw Narcissa.

She studied him with a pensive expression on her face. Remus couldn't deny that she looked lovely under the moonlight. _She has the face of a veela,_ he thought, _but the look in her eyes is pure Padfoot_. He wondered if either of the Blacks had ever noticed this resemblance. Remus doubted it.

"This is a bad habit, Mr. Lupin," she told him, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette in his mouth.

He turned his head sideways and exhaled the smoke so a gust of wind wouldn't blow it in her face.

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Malfoy," he said, then hesitated before he asked, "How are you?"

She shrugged, looking up at the moon as Remus had did a moment ago. "I've been better," Narcissa fixed him with her grey eyes. "But I've been worse too."

"I suppose that's true, isn't it?"

They were silent for a few moments as Remus smoked, the only sounds in the summer night his almost rhythmic puffing and the music of countless crickets.

"It wasn't them," Narcissa said suddenly. Remus turned to look at her, awaiting for the blonde witch to say more. "The prisoners Lily spoke of," she clarified. "It's all they talk about inside... but it wasn't them."

"What makes you think so?"

"Mr. Lupin, if the inner circle had targeted me as a reprisal, I wouldn't have been here, speaking with you tonight." Remus knew what she meant. Death Eater attacks had been devastating during the war, wiping out whole families with wanton brutality and callousness. Even now, almost a year later, he still remembered the deaths of the whole Bones family, and the murder of the Prewett brothers. For a fleeting second, he imagined the sickly glow of the Dark Mark hovering in the sky above Malfoy Manor, the bodies of Narcissa and her son left inside the huge mansion. The thought made him frown and the wolf snarled angrily at it. _Padfoot's blood._ "Whoever broke into my home, was not after me or Draco."

"I think you're right," Remus admitted.

Narcissa seemed to hesitate before she asked, "The man you spoke of, Pettigrew. Was he a friend of yours?"

Remus breathed out a last puff of bluish smoke before he threw the butt in the grass.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, and James and your cousin, we were all his friends. As it turned out, he wasn't a friend of ours."

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't underestimate the Dark Lord's ability to cow people into serving him, Mr. Lupin. I doubt your friend had much of a choice."

Remus took a deep breath. He didn't want to talk about Wormtail. That wound still stung. _Prongs and Padfoot are gone. You and Wormtail are the only ones left._ Somehow, during his journey abroad, Remus had managed to lock the thoughts of Peter away in his mind. Those who went to Azkaban were easily forgotten. Now, though...

Now Wormtail couldn't be ignored anymore.

"You know, Mrs. Malfoy," he said slowly, "You should stop calling me Mr. Lupin."

She eyed him critically. "Should I call you Moony instead?"

He ignored the barb, as well as the irritated gnarl of the wolf. " _Remus_ would do just fine."

"Fine, Remus," she shrugged. "So will _Narcissa_."

"Fair enough, Narcissa."

They fell silent again as Lupin drew another smoke from his pack.

"Would you?" he asked. "I've never been very good with wandless magic." Narcissa huffed and lit the cigarette for him. "Where will you stay tonight?" he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night.

"What do you care?" Narcissa snapped at him, raising a pale eyebrow, before giving him a strange, long look, "Is this... Is this about Sirius?"

"Sirius?"

"Don't play dumb, Remus. It doesn't suit you," Narcissa rolled her grey eyes. "You _know_ we hated each other. So don't play the shining knight either."

Remus sighed. Apparently, she could be every bit as difficult as Padfoot had been during his darker moods.

"I know you did," he said carefully, trying not to provoke more of the blonde's ire. The last thing he wanted was to spark an argument and have the others storm into the yard wondering what was going on. "He never tried to hide from us the fact that he didn't get along with his family." _He was quite proud of that, actually._ "But – and you're probably going to hate hearing this – I know you've changed for the better, Narcissa. I believe that he would have seen that." _He would have, and he also would have rather had his teeth pulled out than admit it_. He grimaced, "Listen... Whether you two liked each other or not, you're still my best friend's cousin. And you've been a good friend to Lily. And I've seen you with Harry, you care about him."

Narcissa glowered at him, then took a deep breath and her shoulders sagged. "I am afraid that you'll have to light your next smoke yourself, Mr. Lupin," she said quietly. "If it will make you sleep easier, I'll be staying here tonight. Good night."

With that she turned and left, stepping back into Lily's house. Remus finished his smoke, lost in thoughts. He had a mind to check on Narcissa when she returned to the Manor. The blonde witch was probably going to bite his bloody head off... but it didn't feel right to leave her to fend for herself, not now, with the fugitive Death Eaters on the run. _Padfoot's blood_ , the wolf rumbled in agreement. _Protect._

But before he was going to do that, he had other business he needed to take care of come the morning.

* * *

Next morning, as Remus was walking towards his destination, he noticed that news of the escaped Death Eaters had already spread even here, in the Wizardry Quarter of Ipswich. Wanted posters adorned with the faces of the convicts were staring at him from brick walls and wooden sign boards alike. Ipswich was a very old town, but its wizarding population was not that great in number, resembling more a close-knit community than the busy throngs of strangers in places like London or Manchester. _Which means that by noon absolutely everyone here will know about her son._

He stopped to light his cigarette (this time blissfully armed with his lighter) before a row of posters. He studied the Death Eaters as he smoked. The six that he didn't know in person had, in one way or another, the looks he _expected_ from people like them, Dolohov with his serious, twisted face, Rookwood pockmarked and smirking almost insolently as he held up the sign that identified his prison number, Selwyn throwing her hair back and snarling angrily at the camera, trying to get out of the restrains she was shackled with, Rosier was handsome, young, self-assured and haughty even in the striped rags he had been forced to wear, the elderly Nott trying to mask his unease with a sneer, Rowle, with eyes that glinted cruelly, resembled a savage, ancient pillager thanks to the unkempt mane and his long beard... and then there was Wormtail. He was nothing like them, trembling and seeming driven near tears by pure terror. _What was he thinking?_ Remus wondered suddenly. _These people are going to kill him the first chance they get_. If they hadn't already. He could almost feel the wolf moving underneath his skin at that thought. The beast in him had long ago marked Wormtail for death because of Prongs' murder, and the full moon was coming. Perhaps in these last few days of the week, Remus needed to increase the dose of the Wolfsbane potion he drank, just to be sure.

Remus sighed. It wouldn't do to dally. Gazing at the sunrise above the waterfront and listening to the cries of the gulls in the sky, he estimated that he probably wouldn't have a lot of time before she left for work.

Someone had nailed a poster with Wormtail's face on her door. Remus stared at it for a second before he tore it down and crumpled it in his hands. Then he knocked.

He heard faint footsteps and then a voice asked, "Who is it?"

"It's Remus, Margaret. Remus Lupin."

He thought he heard a soft gasp and then a short woman with mousy brown hair opened the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Hello, Margaret," Remus said softly, bowing his head lightly.

"R-Remus?" her voice sounded almost choked.

"May I come in?"

Margaret Pettigrew nodded and welcomed him in.

She looked so much older than the last time he had seen her. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and her face was more lined than he remembered. The house somehow looked shabbier too, as if threatening to fall into a state of disrepair. Remus felt a sudden stab of new anger towards Wormtail. His former friend's betrayal had obviously taken its toll on this woman too. _His own mother_.

"Would you like some tea or...?" she asked, her body language betraying her anxiety.

"I don't want to impose myself or take too much of your time, Margaret," Remus shook his head. "I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. I'm sure you have to leave for work soon."

Wormtail's mother blinked and looked at him with an odd expression. "Remus, I..." she hesitated, "I lost my job four months ago. I don't have to go anywhere today," the tone of her voice suggested that she didn't venture outside the house very often. "Please, you're a guest and you were Peter's f..."

She couldn't finish the sentence and looked away. _If you're alive, Wormtail, I hope you're ashamed of yourself, wherever you are_ , Remus thought darkly.

Slowly, almost tentatively Lupin reached a hand and gently squeezed Margaret's bony shoulder. Remus himself had never been a physically strong man, Greyback's curse had robbed him of his good health and his ability to sleep peacefully long ago, but even so Mrs. Pettigrew felt almost fragile to the touch.

"I would love a cup of tea, Margaret," he said, trying to hide the pity in his voice.

She seemed pleased and led him to the living room, only to return shortly with a tray that held an old, cracked teapot, a little sugar and milk, and two cups.

"How are you, Remus?" she asked him when she sat down next to him.

 _She's trying to stall the conversation_. Lupin sighed inwardly. He didn't have a right to blame her for that. Merlin alone knew how he would have reacted in Margaret's place.

So he took a small sip of tea and said, "I'm well," he shrugged, "I returned to Britain quite recently, actually. I was in Europe for a while."

"Really? What did you do there?"

"Traveling. Trying to put my mind at rest after... you know," he finished softly.

"After the war," Mrs. Pettigrew nodded, "The _Prophet_ said you fought at Hogwarts in November. I... I'm glad you weren't hurt, Remus."

He sighed. "Margaret, look..."

"You're here about Peter, aren't you?" her voice sounded sad and hopeless.

Remus let his cup down on the tea table. "Margaret, please, listen to me," he said carefully, "I fear he's in trouble, and not only because the Ministry is searching for him. The people he escaped with... they're dangerous."

The woman forced down a sob and averted her eyes from Lupin's. His chest felt constricted, looking at her.

"I don't know anything, Remus," she whispered. "He's not here. I... I haven't heard from him. I don't even know if he's... he's..."

And then she was crying, sobbing silently, a mother crushed by worry about her son. Remus couldn't take it. He reached and embraced her, letting her weep on his shoulder.

"Did he really do it, Remus?" Margaret hiccuped in his arms. "I... I k-know everyone says he did, but... Did he really betray James?"

Remus closed his eyes, cursing himself and Wormtail for what he had to say to this woman.

"He was the secret keeper, Margaret," he answered simply, unwilling to elaborate further.

She understood his meaning because she started crying harder.

"Why did he do it? Why?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing her back and shoulders, fruitlessly trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

Margaret lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up at him, tears streaking down her hollow cheeks.

"He loved you, Remus. You were his only friends."

"I know, Margaret, I know." _And we would have died for him. But was it fair to ask him to die for us in turn?_

His heart felt frayed and raw. Looking at Margaret, Remus had no doubt that she was telling the truth. She didn't know where her son was, that much was clear. And then a thought occurred to him.

"Margaret," Remus was loathe to cause further discomfort to her, but he had to ask. "I know my question is going to be strange, but... have you noticed any rats in your house?"

She blinked at him, wiping at her eyes. "Rats?" she sounded confused and slightly hurt. "R-Remus, I know my home has seen better days, b..."

"No, Margaret, no. You misunderstand," Remus took her small hands and squeezed them lightly to take away the perceived sting of his words. "I... You see, we never told anyone about it. It was our secret, only for the four of us. As children we swore never to reveal it as long as we lived." And that was true... but Prongs and Padfoot were already dead, and she needed to know about Wormtail. "We, the four of us, we're Animagi."

"Animagi?" Margaret sounded lost.

"Yes," Remus nodded, "James could turn into a stag, Sirius – a dog, and Peter, well, Peter was..."

"A rat."

"Yes. He could transform into a rat."

"And you, Remus?"

"A wolf," he said with a blank expression.

"Oh Merlin..." Margaret took a deep breath. "So that's what those nicknames meant? The whole time?" Remus nodded, just as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I have ever seen a rat in this house. Peter's not here, Remus."

Remus lowered his head. "It's alright, Margaret, but I had to ask. I'm so sorry for everything."

Then a sudden, loud knocking thundered through Margaret's home. _Intruders. Outside._ The wolf growled angrily.

"Wh-who is it?" Margaret asked as she got up and stepped towards the door.

" _Auror Office. Open up._ " A deep voice boomed.

 _Oh, Merlin, not now..._ Remus knew that voice all too well.

"Margaret, stay behind me," he said as he moved to stand in front of her and open the door. "I'll take care of this."

He opened the door.

Before him stood Severus Snape, flanked by two Aurors. One was a tall, black-skinned woman, the other – a man with dark hair and a face so cleanly shaven that his cheeks glistened with a greyish hue. The three of them looked menacing in their black leather uniforms and massive longcoats.

Snape's black eyes narrowed when he saw Remus.

"Well, well, look who is here," he said coldly. "Move aside, Lupin. At once."

With that he stepped into the house, forcing his way past Remus' shoulder and focusing his gaze on Margaret. Snape reached into his coat and drew a golden rosette with the sigil of the Ministry.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," he said to her and put his badge away. "Margaret Pettigrew, I presume?"

"Y-yes? What is this? Has s-something happened with Peter?" She sounded upset, already on the verge of tears once more.

"I don't know. We were hoping you could tell us," he turned to the black Auror. "Search the house. Leave nothing unchecked."

She nodded and rushed past Remus and Margaret, her boots thumping heavily on the floor.

"Severus, listen to me," Remus raised his hands, trying to reason with the man. One look at those angry black eyes, and he knew it was a lost cause. _He hates Wormtail. He won't listen_. "She doesn't know anything. I just spoke with her about Peter. He's not here."

Snape raised a black eyebrow. "Oh, so you're a private investigator now, is that the way of it, Lupin?" He pursed his lips and leaned closer to Remus. "Stay out of my way," he warned. "This whole mess is bad enough as it is with one of you _Marauders_ involved."

"The house is clean, boss," the voice of the black Auror made Remus turn his head as she appeared from the kitchen.

"Very well," Snape nodded and for a moment Remus thought that this was going to be the end of the whole unpleasantness. He was wrong as Snape then said, "Take her in, John. We'll question her in the afternoon."

Remus felt Margaret clutching at the sleeve of his shirt in fright. " _What?!_ " He couldn't believe his ears. "Severus, what do you think you're doing? Margaret doesn't know anything! Hey! Don't touch her!" Remus raised a warning finger towards the dark-haired Auror who had stepped towards Wormtail's mother.

And then Snape's face was so close that their noses almost touched. "I told you to stay out of my way, Lupin," he bit out the words through clenched teeth.

Remus did not back down. "Is that how you conduct your investigations, Severus?" He scowled at Snape. He had never approved of the way Prongs and Padfoot used to pick on him during their childhood... but in that moment he had to use all his willpower to force himself not to punch the bitter son of a bitch in the face. "By bullying scared women? I wonder what would Lily think if she saw you right now," Remus shook his head. "And to think she swears up and down how much you've changed..."

Snape looked like he wanted to hit him with the Cruciatus. Then he took a deep breath and stepped away from Remus.

"Grow up, Lupin," he said icily. "Look at you, threatening to _tattle_ on me. What are you, twelve?" His lips curled in disgust. "I have no intention of hurting your precious friend's mother, you stupid bastard. But I have a crisis on my hands here. Two days ago we were only _one_ Death Eater short in order to finally end this whole nightmare. Today they are _eight._ I _must_ make sure she hasn't been in touch with him."

"I _told_ you she hasn't."

"And, oddly enough, I don't give a damn what you've told me," he nodded at the Auror at his side. "Go ahead, John. But don't be rough with her, she's not accused of anything. Yet. As to you," he looked back to Remus as the man grabbed Margaret by the arm and dragged her out of her own home, "If you ever try to meddle with my work again, well... you do know that Azkaban has a special security ward for homicidal halfbreeds and _other_ similar creatures, don't you?"

Snape left the question hanging in the air as he turned and left. The echo of their footsteps and the thuds of Snape's cane on the floor were momentarily silenced by Margaret's faint voice as she called out Remus' name. Then he heard the sound of disapparation and he was suddenly alone in the old house.

Remus hung his head, outraged by the injustice of it all. Margaret did not deserve any of this.

"Where are you, Peter?" he muttered under his breath before he, too, left.


	10. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **August 2, 1982, Hogwarts**

The phoenix was sizing her up with sharp eyes that betrayed unusual insight and intelligence for a mere animal. The magical bird was rather large, almost the size of a swan, its scarlet plumage shimmering softly in the dimly lit Headmaster's office. It was perched gently on Albus Dumbledore's huge desk and as it stepped closer to the edge to get a better look at Lily, its long, peacock-like tail brushed against the strewn books and papers, rustling them softly. _It is a majestic creature_ , Lily admitted to herself.

When she had walked into the office, the phoenix was the first thing she saw and, without truly meaning to, her attention had latched onto it immediately. She didn't even notice the man sprawled on one of the chairs before the desk.

"You and Fawkes seem quite taken with each other, Mrs. Potter," the voice was laced with frivolity and a touch of condescension. It had a flinty European accent. It startled her and she blinked, tearing her green eyes from the phoenix and focusing on the stranger.

Something about his appearance made her think of an old, cunning tomcat. He was dressed in a rather elegant dark suit that reminded her more of a muggle businessman or a politician than a wizard. Beneath it he wore a deep crimson waistcoat and a white shirt with an open collar that left his throat bare. One leg was resting lazily over the other's knee and he had leaned back on the chair as if he was in his living room and not in the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Lily studied his face. He _looked_ elderly, but the neatly trimmed white goatee and the short, slick hairstyle made him seem drastically different than Dumbledore. Finally she raised an eyebrow and said, "You seem to know my name, but I haven't had the pleasure, Mr...?"

"Ah, Lily, nice to see that you've arrived, my dear," Dumbledore's voice echoed as he stepped out from an alcove on the farther corner of the office, carrying a tray full of steaming teacups and plates adorned with many kinds of sweets and biscuits. "Care to join me and Sigmund for a little snack before everything begins?"

"Albus," the seated man chided with a smile, "where are your manners? Mrs. Potter has not been introduced properly to me yet!"

"Oh!" The Headmaster took his seat behind the desk and peered at them, his bright blue eyes twinkling above his glasses. "In that case, Lily, let me introduce you to my old friend Sigmund Laszlo. Sigmund, here is Lily Potter, a heroine from the war, and an ally and a friend of mine."

Sigmund Laszlo stood up, his movements surprisingly smooth and agile for his age. He took Lily's hand and lifted it to his lips without actually going as far as pressing a kiss to her skin. From this close, she noticed that he had green eyes, but his color was brighter than Lily's, lime-like and almost incandescent. He gave her a crooked smile and said, "An honor and a pleasure, to be sure. I hear you were the one that landed the mortal wound against that notorious _Dark Lord_ of yours before Albus finished him, no?" he snickered. "I do hope you'll treat _me_ more mercifully, Mrs. Potter."

Lily felt confused. Something about Laszlo's behavior seemed _odd_ to her, as if the man was in on some secret joke that nobody else knew about. His words were also rather strange.

"Pardon me, Mr. Laszlo," Lily said carefully, "but why _wouldn't_ I treat you... mercifully?"

"Ah, but Albus here," Laszlo cocked his head towards Dumbledore who innocently popped a lemon drop in his mouth, "has led me to believe that you and I are supposed to be quite the rivals. The serpent and the lion, and all that. Or, a lioness, as the case may be," he finished with a charming grin.

And then Lily finally understood who Sigmund Laszlo really was. _Merlin, could I have made a more bumbling impression?_ she thought bashfully, aggravated at her own slowness. Trying to compose herself quickly, she gave him an appraising look.

"So you are the new Head of Slytherin House, Mr. Laszlo?"

"And the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor too, if you can imagine," he laughed softly, "And you are the Potions Mistress, as well as the Head of Gryffindor, no?" Lily nodded. "Splendid! Though I certainly have no wish to be a rival to such a beautiful young lady as yourself, Mrs. Potter. I'd much rather our... Houses be friends."

Lily had nothing against that idea. She had always found the constant posturing and _wand_ -measuring between Slytherin and Gryffindor to be somewhat... annoying. She was a Gryffindor and she was proud of that, but Horace Slughorn had always been her favorite teacher and at this point in her life she was rather surrounded by Slytherins she loved. _They shouldn't all be judged because some of them turned rotten_ , she mused, thinking of the Death Eaters. Still... There was something about Laszlo that seemed to be rubbing her the wrong way. It wasn't so much the words that came out of his mouth, but the way he spoke and smirked at her. He seemed patronizing, mocking even. Lily had the sudden suspicion that despite this declaration of friendship, she and Sigmund Laszlo were probably going to come to blows before even the Winter Break.

The sound of Dumbledore clearing his throat got her attention. She realized that the Headmaster had spoken to her and blushed when she had to say, "I'm sorry. What were you asking?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her through his white beard. "I asked how you like your tea, dear girl," he said amiably. "And please, do have a seat," he gestured at the chair next to Laszlo's. "I would like for the three of us to discuss some matters before the ceremonies start."

"Three spoons of sugar and no milk, thanks," Lily said as she sat down. Dumbledore handed her a steaming cup and she took a small sip before she asked, "What would you like us to talk about?"

Dumbledore grabbed a biscuit and tore off a piece before crumbling it between his long fingers and presenting it to the phoenix (that was apparently named Fawkes?) in his cupped palm. The bird strutted regally towards the Headmaster's offering and started picking the crumbs very gently.

"A few things, actually," he said lightly, "I thought that you and Sigmund both would benefit if I explain the rites and the ceremony beforehand, seeing how neither of you has held a teaching position in Hogwarts before. Since Aurora is already a member of the faculty, I thought it would be unnecessary to go over it with her. More importantly, though," he gave more crumbs to Fawkes and smiled at the scarlet bird, "I decided it would be best if you're told beforehand, Lily."

"About what?" She furrowed her brow.

"About the _first_ ceremony that we must conduct today. You see, my dear, Sigmund," Dumbledore threw a glance towards Laszlo, "has never graduated or even studied in Hogwarts. I expect that will cause quite the controversy among many wizards."

For a moment Lily was at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say? _That doesn't make sense._

"But..." She hesitated. "But how is he going to be a Head of Slytherin if he has never _been_ in Slytherin?"

"Oh, I'll just put on that hat of yours before we begin," Laszlo told her with a careless shrug. "Albus seems convinced it will sort me in Slytherin. And from there we begin the proper ceremony, I suppose," he chuckled, "But imagine if the thing decided that I'm better suited as a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor. It will be quite scandalous, no?"

"Alright," Lily said slowly, not entirely successful in hiding the doubt that crept in her voice. She looked at the Headmaster. "But why would you go through all this trouble? I mean," she remembered her manners, "no offence to Mr. Laszlo, of course, but why not go to someone who has actually graduated in Slytherin?"

Laszlo took a chocolate frog from the tray with the sweets and bit its head off. "Albus believes me to be the best man for the job. Do you disagree, Mrs. Potter?" he asked and for a split second Lily could swear that his lime-green eyes glinted warningly at her.

"Sigmund," Dumbledore said mildly, "behave." The man rolled his eyes and finished off the frog, but held his tongue. The Headmaster turned to Lily. "I have known Sigmund for many years, Lily. He knows a great deal about the Dark Arts, and I expect nothing less from someone who was schooled in Durmstrang. And there is also another matter..."

The hesitation in Dumbledore's voice triggered something in Lily and she finally understood.

"You consider House Slytherin to be compromised," she said.

"You put it rather bluntly, my dear, but look at the facts," Dumbledore drank a bit of his tea. "Over a hundred men and women went to war against the Wizarding World not a year ago. The overwhelming majority of them were Slytherins. As were their parents, and grandparents. As was their master, to whom those entire generations served," he raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, "Yes, Lily, I am aware. There are exceptions to the rule. Horace. Severus. Even your friend Narcissa Malfoy. There are others too. But not a great many, and none of them actually _wanted_ to take the position. As I'm sure you know."

The hint was not lost on Lily. Dumbledore had offered both the position of a Potions Master and Head of Slytherin to Sev. His refusal had been adamant and swift. Sev had told Lily that the mere thought of wasting his life trying to teach children how to brew potions made him miserable. _He would have hated that job_ , she admitted. Perhaps if Dumbledore had tried to make him the Defense professor instead? But no, as much as she loved him, Lily couldn't deny one thing – brilliant as he was, Sev was _not_ suited to be a teacher.

"So you see, Mrs. Potter," Laszlo's smarmy voice made her turn to look at him, "I am an outsider. Born and schooled on the continent, my only tie to Britain distant relatives and a few friends like Albus. I have never even met this Lord Voldemort or, as far as I'm aware, any of his cohorts. I am the clean slate Slytherin House needs, no?"

Lily was somewhat impressed by his audacity. Even now, after the end of the war and Voldemort's death, a very few people actually had the courage to utter that name out loud. He was becoming something of an almost folklore figure in the Wizarding World, most often referred to as "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named", and other similar titles. Even Lily herself was not overly comfortable with saying his name, the habit of fearing him too deeply ingrained even for her hatred to overcome it completely. _Apparently Laszlo is not that impressed with him, though._

"With Sigmund as their Head of House, the children will not be exposed to the mindset and the philosophy that led to the war. Even if we set aside my personal trust in him for argument's sake, he simply _doesn't know_ how to breed a new generation of Death Eaters. Don't you agree, Lily?"

She wasn't sure if she agreed or not. Laszlo was an unknown. There was merit to Dumbledore's argument, but there were also going to be murmurs and protestations by those who were inevitably going to disagree. She knew that the Headmaster was an influential man, far more so than he _liked_ people to think. Even today, having fought in the war under Dumbledore's command for a few years now, she was still having some trouble connecting the image of the smiling Headmaster with his twinkling blue eyes, silly robes and love for sweets that she had come to know as a child to that of the relentless chessmaster who had waged a secret war against an insane dark wizard and had won. If Albus Dumbledore wanted to do something, there wasn't really anyone in Britain who could stop him. Lily knew that Sev didn't trust him, even though he grudgingly admitted that they were on the same side. _So what is his true goal here?_ she wondered.

Out loud, she just shrugged and said, "I trust your judgement, Headmaster."

Both men nodded, seemingly pleased. Lily's instincts told her that there was more going on here than it appeared. But perhaps it was best to wait and see. _I have enough things to worry about, so Dumbledore's schemes will have to wait_. And who knew? Perhaps everything _was_ as it seemed.

* * *

Eventually, after the Headmaster had gone through the details, the three of them left his office and headed down towards the Great Hall. Standing before its enormous gates stood Filius Flitwick, the diminutive Head of Ravenclaw and Aurora Sinistra, a tall woman with dark skin and bronze-colored robes who was going to become the new Head of Hufflepuff.

Flitwick was the only one who was already an experienced Head of House. With the deaths of McGonagall and Sprout during the battle in November, as well as Horace's retirement in June, this school year was going to be very different for Hogwarts. Lily was not deluding herself in thinking that she could ever replace McGonagall, but she was going to give her all to be the best Head of House for Gryffindor she could possibly be. She had to try and fill Horace's shoes as well... which only was going to make her task even more impossible. Lily hoped that her ideas and approach to the subject would be beneficial to the students and the school.

Sigmund Laszlo, with his arrogance and his smirks, was going to have to prove a lot too. Dumbledore's decision to give such an esteemed position to an outsider was not going to be met with unanimous and thunderous applause. If anything, Lily suspected that a lot of people were going to be against him, waiting for him to slip and fail. She wondered how well he was going to be accepted by what was left of the rich, traditionalist pureblood families that have been continuously affiliated with House Slytherin over the centuries. _At least he knows the Dark Arts well if he's from Durmstrang_.

As to Sinistra, Lily did not truly know her. She was younger than most teachers in Hogwarts, barring Lily herself, looking maybe at around Andromeda's age. At first glance she appeared to be the complete opposite of Pomona Sprout who had been a kindly, portly and elderly woman who treated all children, no matter their House, with warmth and affection. Lily had liked her a lot, and her subject of Herbology had been of interest too, because it was directly related to her favorite Potions. Sinistra was teaching Astronomy, however, and looked focused and stoic rather than warm and kind. Hufflepuff was known for producing benevolent and hardworking wizards and witches. Sprout had been the very image of benevolence, and Sinistra seemed more like the type who valued most sedulous work.

With Flitwick's guidance, the four of them surrounded the back of Dumbledore in a half-circle and followed him when he opened the gates with a flourish.

The last time Lily had seen the Great Hall, it was in November, during the feast held to honor those like McGonagall and Sprout who had perished in the defense of Hogwarts. It hadn't been a _merry_ event, those present still freshly marred by loss and feeling adrift and uncertain. It had been somber and subdued in terms of splendor. Lily had made it through that evening almost solely because of the relief that Harry and Sev were alive and – at least in Harry's case – unharmed.

Today the solemn atmosphere was still present, but Dumbledore had outdone himself when it came to the magnificence of the whole thing.

The dais that usually held the long table where all the teachers sat to eat during the school year was almost empty, arranged for the seating of only five people. All the rest of the Hogwarts staff were relegated to the rows of tables on the two sides of the hall, forming something akin to a corridor that led towards the dais. As she walked behind Dumbledore alongside Flitwick, Laszlo and Sinistra, Lily glimpsed a few faces she knew better. Here was Hagrid, grinning encouragingly at her through his bushy beard, there – the short-haired Madam Hooch, leaning to whisper something in Professor Vector's ear... Lily even noticed the ghosts of Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron floating above the heads of the teachers. _Everyone is here_ , she realized.

Then she saw the four glowing sigils.

They glittered in the air above the dais, semi-translucent and effulgent. Under each stood a tall chair.

The first was a blue eagle, with proud wings and keen, clever eyes with the color of molten metal. Its feathers were shining with a hundred of blue tints, from a bright spring sky to a deep ocean. The curved beak and the sharp talons were gleaming bronze.

The second was a coiled serpent, with a long neck that swayed gently above its body. Its color was difficult to discern, seemingly nacreous, perpetually changing from emerald to silver depending on where the light reflected. Each shiny scale changed its color at a different time too, fraction of a second too early or late, making the serpent seem alive.

Next to the eagle and the serpent stood Dumbledore's throne-like chair and on its other side hovered a badger surrounded by a golden glow that gave its black fur a regal sheen. The badger's dark eyes looked kind and caring.

And, finally, next to it Lily saw the lion. It stood rampant like a heraldic beast. Enormous red mane hung around its head and upper torso, bright as flame, hues of fiery scarlet dancing around the tips of thick hair. The short, golden fur on its body glimmered majestically, reflecting the light of torches and candles. The claws on its mighty paws and the fangs inside its maw looked fierce, and yet also inspired a sense of security as if they were a promise to protect you.

 _It's... beautiful_ , Lily thought, her green eyes drinking the sight of the four animals. Thankful for having Dumbledore explain the ceremony to her beforehand, she moved towards the dais with Sinistra and Flitwick. Each went to the tall chair beneath the corresponding sigil of their House and waited, without sitting down. From up there Lily could see the whole Great Hall, dozens and dozens of eyes staring at them.

Dumbledore and Laszlo walked towards a single three-legged stool that was placed on the floor before the dais. On it was perched an old, wide-brimmed wizard's hat made of dark, frayed cloth. It looked like nothing much... but, in one way or another, the Sorting Hat had shaped the lives of every single person in the Great Hall. _Everyone, that is, except for Sigmund Laszlo_. And even that was about to change. Lily briefly wondered how many hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches hat put the hat on over the centuries.

"My friends!" Dumbledore's clear voice rang over the Great Hall, echoing through the rafters and making the flames of the torches and the scores of candles flicker. "Soon another school year begins at Hogwarts," he spoke, this time not quite as loud, "We all remember the terrible woes that befell us last year. I have no wish to speak of them, and I see no need as I know that all of you were present." He was silent for a moment. "We must never forget those faithful friends that are no longer with us. They gave their lives, for Hogwarts and for the world we live in. They did so knowing that life must continue. That Hogwarts must endure, as it always has. And so it shall, in their memory and honor."

With that Dumbledore fell silent and lowered his head. Silence washed over the Great Hall, reigning for a full minute before he raised his blue eyes and continued.

"Today," he said, looking around the hall, "we welcome three new friends, to replace those that are no longer with us and those that retired to a fully earned rest in the sunset of their days. One of those three you all know, for she has been a member of our school's faculty for a few years already," Dumbledore turned and nodded towards Sinistra. "Another," his bright eyes found Lily, "you know as well, for she herself was a student in Hogwarts not long ago." Then he turned back and placed a hand on Laszlo's shoulder. "The third one you do not know, for he comes to us from the Durmstrang Institute in far-away Scandinavia. This is Sigmund Laszlo, a friend of mine to whom I turned to help and he graciously agreed. However," the Headmaster squeezed briefly Laszlo's shoulder and released him, "our traditions cannot allow for him to take the post I need him to take, as he has not studied in Hogwarts. Hence I decided that we need to begin in a different way. Sigmund, if you please?"

Lily saw how Laszlo smirked for a second before he nodded and moved towards the small, three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore took the Hat in his arms, allowing the other man to take a seat on the stool. Then he placed it on top of his head.

Everyone's attention was on the Headmaster and the outsider. The silence was deafening.

Then the Sorting Hat spoke.

"Hrmmm," it drawled in a dry, husky voice that did not sound entirely human-like. "Highly unusual. You are no child. A man you are, you have seen many winters. Many wounds you bear inside," It murmured something unintelligible and spoke again, "I see cleverness. Ambition. Pride. Talent so enormous that most can only dream of possessing it, and even more knowledge. You know the taste of greatness and I can see how well you like it. But you have been made to drink from the cup of humility as well. Tell me, how did you like _that_ taste? Was it always cold there?" Laszlo suddenly looked ill-at ease, squirming uncomfortably on the stool. But before he could answer, the Hat cried, "Bah! _SLYTHERIN!_ "

A hundred voices echoed at once, turning into a roar. Then Dumbledore raised a hand and, in an instant, the Great Hall was silent again.

"There it is, my friends!" he cried and turned back to the dias. "I give you Aurora Sinistra, the Head of Hufflepuff!" Cheers and applause boomed around them. A very small smile appeared on Sinistra's face and she nodded at Dumbledore before sitting under the glowing badger. The Headmaster focused his gaze on Lily next. "I give you Lily Potter, the Head of Gryffindor!" Another round of cheers roared across the Great Hall. Lily blushed when she heard Hagrid clapping and whistling with a giant's enthusiasm. She moved underneath the glowing lion and took her seat. "And I give you Sigmund Laszlo, the Head of Slytherin!"

* * *

By the time Lily got home, the afternoon was already retreating to give way to a mild, breezy summer evening. Being up almost since dawn, she was tired and aching for a nap. _Hopefully Harry will let me get one_. As she unlocked the door and entered the house, her eyes darted left and right, trying to ascertain if everything was fine. Since Narcissa and Draco had stayed here last night following the break-in at Malfoy Manor, she had left Harry home at the care of her friend. It had taken a lot of persuasion to force Gawain Robards to stay as well, and the solemn promise on her side to travel only through apparition to Hogwarts' grounds and back.

But now she couldn't hear the voices of the children nor did she see the Auror or the blonde witch in the hallway. All she noticed was a pair of male boots and a single Auror coat left on the hanger. If that was any indication, Robards supposedly was around at least.

When she entered the living room, however, Lily couldn't help but smile, feeling warmth spreading through her chest.

Sev was dozing on the couch, looking pale but relaxed, his long black hair spilling on the pillow beneath his head. Harry had curled up at his side, also asleep and resting his head on Sev's chest. Lily tiptoed to the two and couldn't hold back a giggle when she saw that her son had drooled slightly on Sev's black leather uniform.

"Shh," Sev said very softly, his eyes still closed, but a small smile appeared on his lips. "I've been trying to put him to sleep for an hour."

"Move your head for a bit," Lily whispered. Sev did so and she sat on the couch, pushing the small pillow aside, then guided his head back with her hand until it rested on her lap. Sev opened his eyes and stared up at her. _Merlin, he looks so tired..._ "Hey," she smiled at him, gently driving her fingers through his black hair.

"Hey," he smiled back. "How did it go at Hogwarts?"

Lily sighed softly and craned her stiff neck back, gazing at the ceiling. "Profusely exhausting," she admitted. "You should have agreed to Dumbledore's offer, Sev. The new Head of Slytherin is an utter pillock."

Sev chortled softly. "Sorry, Lily, but I can't imagine anything I'd hate more than teaching."

"You'd be terrible at it," she said agreeably prompting another chuckle. Sev rarely laughed and she enjoyed the sound of it. "But at least I'd work with someone I actually _like_."

"Is he so unpleasant?"

"I guess it would depend on who you compare him to. He's nothing like Horace. He's from Europe, seems German or Hungarian, something like that. One of those people who always think they're the smartest person in the room. He's a friend of Dumbledore's, you know?"

"Ah," Sev grimaced, "Say no more," he brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. "I've had my fill of the old man. His friends are probably as bad as him."

"Apparently," she shrugged, brushing his hair gently with her fingers. "Sev? Where are Narcissa and Draco, and Mr. Robards?"

Sev took a deep breath. The rise and fall of his chest made Harry move lightly up and down with him and her son stirred gently, but he didn't wake.

"I sent Gawain home for the rest of the day," Sev told her, "I wanted to see you." She smiled at him and caressed his gaunt cheek. "Narcissa and her son went back to the Manor shortly after." Then he gave her a serious look with his coal-black eyes. "Lily, why didn't you contact me about the break-in the moment it happened?"

She blinked, considering her response. "I didn't want to interrupt your investigation, what with the escaped Death Eaters and everything. Narcissa thinks the two events are unrelated." Sev averted his eyes. Lily frowned. "Are they?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But there are... disturbing coincidences that Narcissa knows nothing about. I offered to arrange for some men to monitor her lands, but she refused. She insists she can take care of herself," he glared lightly up at Lily, but there was no real ire in his black eyes. "I wonder which one of you is the more bullheaded."

"Her, of course." Sev only grunted in response to that statement. Lily was enjoying bantering with him, but there was something serious she wanted to talk to him about too. "Sev," she asked softly. Something in her voice apparently gave her away, because he focused on her, as if expecting a more solemn turn of the conversation, "And why didn't _you_ tell me about Peter?"

He sighed and simply studied her for a couple of seconds. "Do you really need to ask?" He said finally.

"I wasn't going to disappear on a quest for revenge, Sev."

"I would have," Sev said frankly. "Back on that Hallowe'en," his voice seemed slightly labored. He still wasn't used to open himself up, even to her. "If I hadn't arrived on time and you... you were... gone... I would have found him and I would have made sure his death took _days_."

"Sev..."

He closed his eyes again. "Sorry," he muttered, "I shouldn't have mentioned it."

He didn't have to specify what _it_ meant. Back in November, immediately after the Battle for Hogwarts was over, Sev had admitted to her that he was in love with her – that he had, apparently, _always_ loved her. Back then she had asked him to give her time to grieve and get over the deaths of James and so many of her friends. Back then she hadn't been completely sure if she could fully reciprocate those feelings. She had always cared for Sev, deeply, but back in November it had been nearly impossible to think of anyone other than James in such a manner. _And now?_ she asked herself.

Now... she was still unsure. True to his word, Sev had not pressed her, had not demanded anything she wasn't able or willing to give. Even the way they were right now, with him resting his head on her lap and she tousling lightly his long hair... that, in a way, was more intimate than anything they had done back in school despite being rather platonic. Whatever it was between her and Sev, it was growing slowly and gently, and she had been content to let it so. _But what about him? Is he okay with the idea of things going so slow?_ She didn't dare to give voice to that question. But some things needed to be said out loud.

"I... I think I'm over James, Sev," she whispered. His black eyes snapped open and fixated on her. Involuntary, she blushed. "Listen, I know you don't like to hear it, but he will always have a part of my heart. I can't change that and... and I don't want to. But he's gone and I've made my peace with it. He's my past. Harry is my future and so are you, if you want to be. I wasn't going to throw it all away so I could go and kill Peter," she shrugged. "Which doesn't mean that I don't hate the little vermin or that I'm not upset by the fact that he walks free as we speak."

A small half-smile bloomed on Sev's face at her last words. "Once I catch them," he said slowly, fighting another yawn. He looked as if he was trying not to fall asleep as he spoke to her, "I believe that Fudge will order for them to be administered the Kiss. Escaping from Azkaban is a capital offense in itself, and they killed at least three people during the riot. Maybe that will help you put all of this to rest, Lily."

"Maybe," she allowed after a moment, then looked away. She didn't find the thought of Peter's soul being devoured by a dementor to be all that disturbing... and _that_ was somewhat disturbing to her. "Are you any closer?" she asked, trying not to sound nagging.

She heard his heavy sigh and turned her gaze back down on him. "No," Sev admitted grudgingly, "Earlier today," he began and hesitated before he continued, "I interrogated Pettigrew's mother. She lives in Ipswich, thought he might have tried to contact her. She knows absolutely nothing," then he frowned, "By the way, do have a good talk with your friend Lupin next time you see him."

"Remus? Why?"

"He was there before we arrived. The berk had gotten it into his head to try and question her himself. I'm warning you, Lily, your friend or not, I will not tolerate him mucking my work up."

 _Oh, Merlin..._ Lily pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.

"How bad was it?" she asked.

"How bad was what?"

"The fight you two got into."

"There was no... fight..." his voice was loaded with avoidance.

"Sev."

"I may have called him a bastard."

" _Sev!_ "

"And I may have threatened to throw him in Azkaban."

"I can't believe you two. Are you adults or do men just stop growing in the head once they're past 15? I swear, James was the same, Sirius too!"

"Lily, I'm not joking," Sev said gravely and frowned at her. "He acted as if I was the bloody Spanish Inquisition because I _dared_ to detain his friend's mother for questioning. Today it was harmless. But what happens if the next time when he decides to meddle because Pettigrew is involved, he gets in the middle of a fight between my team and the escapees? Hm? Because at this point he's on the verge of being unpredictable and that's literally the _last_ thing I need. If he puts my Aurors in danger, I _will_ put him in Azkaban. So tell him to _stay away_."

Lily sighed. "I will talk to him," she promised. _Poor Remus. He must feel so lost inside._

Sirius' death had hit her hard. With James it was worse. Much worse. But she still had had Sev, and Narcissa, and the Tonks family, and the children. Their presence in her life had helped her recover once the war was done. She tried to be there for Remus as much as she could, but she couldn't compensate for the loss of the two friends who were more like brothers to him, and the third who turned out to be a backstabbing traitor. Merlin alone knew how hard he was taking the news of Peter's escape and what he was going to do.

"I'm sorry," Sev said softly and yawned. "It's not your fault and it's... unfair to ask you to babysit the fool. You have enough to worry about with Harry's safety and... Hogwarts." He closed his eyes and bit back a big yawn. "I haven't... Fuck, Lily, I haven't slept since before Harry's birthday and we've gotten nowhere. _Nowhere._ "

The bitter self-blame was almost dripping from Sev's voice. She touched his cheek and bent over to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Rest," she said simply. "You'll get them, Sev. I know you will."

"Back when I was served the Dark Lord, I was a part of the inner circle, you know," his voice was barely audible and his words were beginning to slur with exhaustion. "We made contingency... plans for escape in case we ever needed to flee from Britain had the war turned sour. There are a few... places, where the magic ley lines intersect and you can use the energy to jump to Europe with a... portkey even if the whole of Britain was under blockade. As it is... now." Lily remained silent, letting him speak, "Today we... went to... each and every... one of those spots... Checked _everything_ for trails or... clues," he was drifting off, his breathing slowing down.

"You didn't find anything," she finished for him. "Shh, Sev. Go to sleep. You need it."

"Wha...? No, we... found... one o'them," Lily blinked rapidly, biting her tongue in an effort not to cry out in shock. "But he was... already... dead..." And then Sev was gone, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as sleep took him away from the dismayed Lily.


	11. Chapter 9

**A/N:**

 **I hesitated on whether I should add a warning about this specific chapter, especially since I never did so in "Always" or the chapters of "Never" that I've published so far, but... better safe than sorry. So be warned - this chapter is violent, in more ways than one, including a mention of sexual violence, though it won't be depicted directly. Keep in mind that this warning MAY make you think that it's worse than it actually is, especially since I consider my stories to be sort of dark anyway... but I am also aware that I am more thick-skinned than most people and I wouldn't want my story to trigger truly negative emotions in anyone, so, like I said, better safe than sorry.**

 **Love to all,**

 **Rinso**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 **August 2, 1982, Northeastern Scotland**

He had tried to escape the first night after they had reached the mainland.

Once they had washed up on shore, Dolohov had ordered a lot of apparition jumps one after the other, the direction chosen randomly every time to throw off any immediate pursuit.

The night had found them in a ravine, deep inside some forest and shielded from prying eyes. Peter did not know where they were. The seven escapees had apparated there, soaking and exhausted. Some of them, like Nott and Rookwood, had fallen asleep almost immediately, but Dolohov had insisted that everybody should take a watch during the night. They couldn't afford carelessness. Being the youngest in the group, Rosier had been given the first one.

Peter had pretended to be asleep, curled up on the ground. He had forced himself to slow down his breathing and keep still. The second he had noticed Rosier's attention waver, he had willed whatever power he still had and had transformed.

That the dark had not robbed him of this ability was somewhat a surprise to him. But as his body shrank and covered itself in fur, as his organs and bones rearranged themselves and his senses attuned themselves to his rodent form, Peter had allowed himself to feel elation and excitement. He was going to be free!

That had been foolish. Very foolish.

Before the rat could dart away in the bushes and disappear, he had felt a hand coiling around his body. The fingernails had dug cruelly into his skin and he had let out a quiet, animalistic squeak. If he had been in the form of a man, he would have screamed.

"Well, well," Amantia's voice had hissed from above. "What do we have here? Rosier! Dolohov! Wake up!"

She had lifted him up before their faces as he squirmed madly in her grip.

"What the fuck?" Rosier had blinked in confusion.

"Some guard you are," she had laughed scornfully at the younger Death Eater. "This," she had shook Peter violently, "is Pettigrew. The little scum is an Animagus! He tried to slink away! Prolly was gonna bring the Aurors here!"

By then the rest of them had woken up as well. The Death Eaters had gathered around Amantia who held him in the air with a disgusted expression on her face.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Thorfin Rowle had thundered, his eyes glistening madly. Peter had shrieked.

"Probably for the best," Rookwood had nodded. "This one is more trouble than he's worth. Shouldn't have busted him out."

Rosier had already pointed his wand at him and had opened his mouth. Peter had closed his rat's eyes, afraid to see the flash of green light that was going to follow.

" _Wait!_ " Dolohov's voice had cut through it all like a sword.

"What?! You can't mean to spare him!"

Dolohov had leaned his thin, twisted face until his eyes were staring right at Peter.

"Spare him?" he had asked. "I think not. But none of us is an Animagus. Who knows, we could make use of him yet. Besides it's better not to leave bodies behind. I don't want a trail."

With that he had flicked his wand, returning Peter to his true form. He had fallen on the cold ground, naked and trembling.

"Don't kill me! Ple-" his cry had been interrupted by Rowle's enormous fist as the blonde man struck him in the face, hard. Peter had heard the sound of his own nose breaking and he had screamed in pain and terror, blood spurting everywhere.

" _Silencio!_ " Dolohov's spell had put an end of the sounds he was making, but he had continued to scream in mute horror all the same. "Five minutes, Thorfin," Dolohov had said, handing his wand to Rowle. "The rest of you, get ready. We leave after Pettigrew's been... disciplined."

"You're mine now, little rat," Thorfin had smiled through his yellow beard, driving a hand through his long hair. He had crouched before the trembling form of Peter. "Feel free to scream," he had added with a chuckle before pointing the wand at Peter. " _Crucio!_ "

Peter had lost control over his thrashing body and his bowels had relieved themselves long before the five minutes were up.

After that he never tried to escape again.

* * *

Even two days later, his body still hurt.

By the time they found the cottage, his skin was burning and he was covered in cold sweat. His broken nose was swollen and the wound felt as if it was festering. When he lay at night he couldn't even breathe properly, the air wheezing out of his nose and mouth with a sickly, wet sound.

The rope around his neck bit into his skin when Amantia pulled it sharply and he stumbled down on his knees. After his attempt to escape two days ago, Rookwood had conjured an enchanted rope that was going to maintain its tight hold even if Peter had turned into a rat again. Not that he tried. _I should have stayed in my cell_ , he thought, not for the first time. _The dark never hurt so much._ Dimly, as he tried to catch his breath, he wondered how much longer he was going to live.

Now they were all crouched on top of a small, rocky ridge, looking down at the valley with the lone cottage. The house was small. There was a dirt road nearby, but it was otherwise remote, with no other dwellings in sight. An old automobile was parked in a makeshift shed on the side of the cottage, and on the other side leaned a small, stony byre that was probably used to house sheep. Grey smoke was winding from the chimney of the cottage. There was someone inside.

They saw the old man when he made his way across the valley, walking calmly, and without a care in the world. Four or five sheep were trotting ahead of him, flanked by a single, hairy dog. The Death Eaters watched from above as the man herded the sheep into the byre, then entered the house. He never noticed them.

When Dolohov gave the signal, they descended into the valley, surrounding the house. Amantia had handed his rope to Nott who stayed back and she ran towards the door of the cottage alongside Rowle and Dolohov. Rookwood and Rosier sneaked on the other side, towards the open window.

Even from afar, Peter heard the scream of the girl when Thorfin kicked the door in and stormed inside, followed by Dolohov and Amantia. At the same time Rookwood and Rosier jumped inside through the window.

The dog began to bark loudly and angrily from inside the house, then Peter glimpsed a brief flash of green and heard more screaming. The dog didn't bark again. By the time he and Nott reached the house, a second Killing Curse flared, the emerald light blinking for a split second through the window.

The still bodies of the old man and his dog were laying crumpled on the floor. Dolohov was watching Rookwood who was rummaging through what looked like a small, humble kitchen. Amantia and Rosier had already sat before a table with a couple of plates of steaming food. It looked like the lunch was set for two and Peter remembered that he had heard a girl's scream when the Death Eaters had forced their way inside. He wondered where was she, when he noticed that Rowle was not in the room as well, which gave him all the answer he wanted to know.

"What is _that_?" Rosier asked, eyeing the food on the table with revulsion.

Rookwood peered from behind his shoulder as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ale. "Shepherd's pie, looks like," he said as he sniffed the air and his pockmarked face twisted in a grimace that resembled a fond smile. "Shove off, Evan, I haven't had a good pie in years."

"Have at it," Rosier huffed. He poked the food with a fork, made a face and stood up from the table, stepping over the old man's corpse as if he was nothing more than a rug on the floor.

Suddenly, Peter's stomach roiled and he was on his hands and knees, heaving and panting. Nott threw his leash and stumbled away from him with a disgusted expression. It was the smell of the pie that had made Peter want to vomit. It was delicious, but all Peter could focus on were the bodies of the old man and the dog. The combination had been too much for him.

"Now, that's just bad manners, Peter," Rookwood chastised him between bites. "We're _eating_ here."

"Ought to make the little shit lick it all up," Amantia snickered.

Suddenly a female cry of pain echoed from another room, followed by the sounds of a brief struggle and Rowle cursing and a sharp, agonizing yelp, and then – nothing but silence. A few moments later Peter heard the big man's heavy footsteps as he came into the kitchen. Still kneeling on the floor and trying to tear his eyes off from the corpses, Peter glimpsed him adjusting his ragged, striped prisoner's trousers with bloodied hands.

"Damned muggle whores," the giant grumbled, blowing long strands of greasy, blond hair off his sweaty face. "Not even worth the fuck, I'm telling you."

"Makes one heck of a shepherd's pie, though," Rookwood chewed loudly and drank heartily from the bottle of ale to pass it all down. "Her grandad knew nothing of good ale, alas. Did you kill her?"

"Crushed her fucking neck when she tried to fight at the end."

"Pity. Wouldn't have minded a go. Pretty young thing."

Peter was just staring at them, still kneeling on the floor. _I once swore to fight those men_ , he thought, remembering Prongs and Padfoot, and Moony. But he had betrayed Prongs. And now here Peter stood, among the murderers and the rapists. _I'm no better than them._ A part of him wished he could take it all back, to have remained true to his friends for better or worse. But he knew that this was just a mad folly, a legacy the dark had left him. _You can't take it back,_ _Wormtail,_ he heard Padfoot's voice in the back of his head and almost turned to see if his dashing friend was there. He wasn't, of course. _But you can still fight them_ , this time it sounded like Moony. _I can't, they'll kill me. They're evil and strong, and cruel, and I'm just a weak rat_. He trembled when he imagined himself jumping up and lunging for Rosier's wand. That road was going to end very quickly, in pain and death. _At least you'll die like a man, not like a rat_ , Prongs sighed sadly.

Peter remained on the floor and did nothing.

"If you're all done clowning around," Dolohov said grimly as he sat on the table next to Rookwood and Amantia, "We must talk."

Rookwood blinked and laughed derisively. "Always cheery, our Antonin. What's up?"

"We have to tell them where we're going."

"And where is that?" Amantia frowned. "I thought we were getting out of Britain tonight."

"Even sooner," Dolohov shrugged, "But you need to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Rosier asked, his slender arms crossed in front of his chest.

"We always had a plan for something like that," Dolohov said calmly. "We kept it within the inner circle, and it was before you came along, Evan. Augustus and Cantankerus know what I'm talking about, but you, Amantia and Thorfin need to be told."

"Told _what_ , exactly?"

"A few years ago we mapped a few places in Britain, places where the magic flow is so powerful that even if the whole country is under blockade – and we must assume it is by now – we could jump to the continent with a portkey. But it _has_ to be done from one of those places if we want it to work."

The rest of the Death Eaters fell silent, the only sound Rookwood's chewing as he finished up with the shepherd's pie.

"I'm guessing we're heading to one of those places already? You always picked the way so far," Rosier frowned.

"We are. If we leave soon, we could be there in a couple of hours. Soon we will be far out of the Ministry's reach. I propose we jump to Denmark, from there we can make our way to the Baltic and Russia. I have some assossiates there that could help us hide. By nightfall we will be free men."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Amantia raised her voice. "This is a _bad_ idea, Dolohov."

"Why?" He scowled at her.

"Oh, Salazar's fucking beard, you don't know! Of course you don't, all of you were cooped up in Azkaban since winter..."

"Know what, Amantia?" For once Rookwood sounded serious.

"You say that the inner circle knew about those spots?" She leaned forward, pushing the plates away. "All of you did? Including Snape?"

Peter twitched on the floor when he heard that name. Snape had been the one to reveal his treachery and send him to Azkaban last year. _He gave me to the dark. He hates me._

"Snape? What does he have to do wi-"

"Shit! He's a _fucking_ Auror now. Get it, Rookwood? An Auror!" She eyed the rest of them. "Yeah, an Auror. He's the one who nabbed me and Walden back in Birmingham when Karkaroff ran off like a cur after he met with Lestrange. I fucking _bet_ he knows about those places and he'll wait there. You'll get us all killed, Dolohov!"

"Fuck!" Thorfin muttered angrily and put his fist through the nearest wall.

Dolohov ignored the big Death Eater's outburst and studied Amantia for a few moments before he shrugged. "There is more than one such spot," he said finally. "Snape can't be everywhere at once, and we will only need a moment to use the portkey. Chance is on our side here."

"Too risky," Nott shook his head gravely. "Antonin, we must think of something else."

"There is _nothing_ else," Dolohov insisted. "We can't stay in Britain. Sooner or later they will find us."

"And if Snape is waiting for us there?" Amantia demanded.

"We kill him," Dolohov answered simply. "There are six of us. Don't you wait to get back at him for capturing you, Amantia?"

"I want to melt his fucking eyes out of the sockets," she growled. "But I want to stay out of Azkaban even more."

"Well, that's the _only_ way to stay out," he told her with finality. Then Dolohov looked at Rookwood and said, "Augustus, take Evan and Amantia and find enough clothes for everyone. We can't keep on with those rags, they'd give us right away. Thorfin, Cantankerus, gather some provisions. Whatever you can find to last us for a day or two, just in case."

As the Death Eaters grudgingly set out to the tasks Dolohov had given them, he turned on his chair and fixed Peter with his cold stare.

"Pettigrew," he said calmly. "Remember that we could have killed you, but we chose to let you live in the hope you might be useful instead. Once we reach our destination, I'll have a task specifically for you. Fulfill it, and you might get to keep your life after we're through. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Peter nodded, trying to ignore the pain that flared across his face as he spoke. "I understand."

* * *

The cliff was windy and cool, even in the middle of summer. After they left the old shepherd's cottage, the seven fugitives had apparated beneath the shade of a large stone formation that hid them from view well unless one was coming from the sea _and_ was looking up. Peter could hear the waves crashing into the bedrock below, sending spurts of seawater and foam high into the air. A few feet in front of them towered a sharp, mossy spire that jutted forward and up, like the edge of a knife poised against the sea. The top of it seemed somewhat flat, but they couldn't really see what was up there from the ground. Flocks of gulls and cormorants circled the spire, their shrill cries reminding him of Ipswich and his mother's home.

The sound of apparation made him turn his head. "All seems clear," Rosier said to Dolohov who was staring blankly at the portkey he had made from one of the bottles of ale that they had taken from the cottage.

The young Death Eater was the last of the lookouts to return. Dolohov had sent all of them, barring himself and Peter, to scout the area a few miles around the tall spire and make sure that there were no agents of the Ministry lurking about. So far it seemed that Selwyn's fear of Snape and his Aurors was unfounded. Peter swallowed, trying to moisten his sore, dry throat. He almost wished that the Aurors _would_ come and find them. The dark had been a strangling, looming presence that had fed on his sanity for months... but it was not as bad as being at the mercy of the Death Eaters and witnessing and experiencing their cruelty and disregard for human life. Peter was not fooling himself anymore. It was only a matter of time until one of them would get angry or bored enough to see him dead. If they indeed managed to escape from Britain, Peter doubted he'd live to see the next sunrise. Azkaban meant a life in fear and darkness until eventually his mind shattered... but not an imminent and, likely, painful death.

"Very well," Dolohov said to Rosier, then turned to eye Peter. "Pettigrew. Get ready."

"W-what do you want me to do?"

"For now, to stay still," with that Dolohov suddenly pointed his wand at Peter's head and hissed, " _Imperio!_ "

Peter had been targeted with the Imperius before and he knew the feeling. _That's how Snape revealed your treachery, wasn't it, Wormtail?_ Padfoot sneered inside his mind before his voice was silenced by a wave of warm serenity that engulfed Peter like a cloud of thick mist. He couldn't move anymore, not on the command of his own will, but that didn't frighten him. His face had stopped throbbing painfully. All Peter could do, all he _wanted_ to do was to wait patiently for Dolohov's orders. Obedience was not a choice at this point – it was the only natural thing to do. He existed to obey, not to cower or try to escape.

"After I stop talking," Dolohov's emotionless voice sounded far-away, and yet each word was silently branded into Peter's thralled brain, "you will assume your animal form again. You will climb on top of the spire," Peter's small eyes followed the Death Eater's hand when he pointed at the spire. "You will remain under the guise of a rat until you have made certain that there is no Auror ambush waiting for us. If everything is alright, you will transform back and will call for us to apparate. If there are Aurors, you will transform and will attack them until they kill you, and will not reveal our presence no matter the danger or the pain you might suffer. Go."

Peter obeyed. He couldn't do anything but obey.

The climb was not easy and it took him a long time. He was weak, and a rat was so small that the distance was a challenge. He had to find his way through cracks in the stony surface, evade the preying eyes of the birds in the sky and make sure that a sudden gust of wind would not topple him into the sea.

A few times he had to track back and scale almost vertical slabs of rock as the salty wind howled all around him. He was scratching at the stones with his tiny paws as he fought against the vertigo. If his mind had been free, he would have never tried to make this climb, as a rat _and_ as a human. But the Imperius Curse shielded him from the terror and he never stopped, oblivious of pain and danger.

Finally and suddenly, it was over. He had made it.

He scuttled through the thin weeds that covered the top of the spire, looking around. Then he froze.

A man was sitting on the ground, cross-legged and looking utterly calm. At his side lay a tiny goblin girl, her hands and feet tightly bound, her mouth gagged with a dirty rag. The man was writing something in a small black book, pausing every few moments or so to stare at the pages before resuming. Peter measured him carefully with his eyes, trying to sneak forward.

He did not know the man. He had long brown hair that fell in front of his stubbled face as he gazed down at the book, so Peter couldn't get a good look at his features. He must have been an Auror. Dolohov's orders were echoing inside his mind. _Attack them until they kill you._

Peter sneaked towards him, trying to hide between a few larger stones.

"I see you," the Auror said mildly. "Why don't you come out in the open so we can talk?"

Peter stopped in his tracks. He had no choice. He triggered the transformation and rushed forward as he was resuming his human shape, intending to tackle the Auror off the edge of the cliff.

He never even came close. In just an instant the Auror had whipped his wand out of his jacket and had felled Peter with a Knockback Jinx. The impact with the hard ground drove the air out of his bare, tortured body.

Before Peter could even blink, the Auror's face appeared above him. He smiled.

"Hello, Peter," he said before he grabbed Peter's arm and turned it with the palm up, revealing his Dark Mark. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours, eh?"

With those words, he rolled the sleeve of his jacket up, showing a Dark Mark of his own, the inked snake slithering out of the skull's gaping maw.

The Auror was not an Auror at all. He was a Death Eater.

Dolohov had given Peter very clear instructions. If everything was alright and the escape spot was clear, he had to summon the six Death Eaters who were waiting below. If there were Aurors, he had to die fighting them without betraying the six Death Eaters. But Dolohov had never said anything about _another_ Death Eater. Was he an ally?

"Now that we have that settled, my little rat friend," the Death Eater smiled, "why don't you tell me where are Antonin and the others hiding?" But Dolohov had never allowed Peter to talk. He just stared at the stranger's eyes, unable to say or do anything. The Death Eater frowned. "Is that the way of it? I suppose it is, isn't it? Antonin is a very sensible man. He sent you as a decoy, didn't he? The Imperius?" Peter didn't answer. He couldn't. The Death Eater sighed. "I guess I must do _everything_ myself. Well, alright then. Don't go anywhere," he added as he got up and walked to the other side of the spire, the one facing the cliffs below.

"ANTONIN!" he shouted, his voice echoing above the relentless assault of the sea. "IT'S ME! COME UP HERE! WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME!"

Peter lay on the ground, listening to the ragged breaths that wheezed out of his broken nose. Then he heard the brief, sharp crack and turned his head to see that the six Death Eaters had apparated on top of the spire, wands ready for a fight.

"Bugger me in the arsehole..." Rookwood's eyebrows shot up. " _Rabastan?!_ "

"Hello, Augustus," the Death Eater nodded. "Long time no see."

"What is the meaning of this, Lestrange?" Dolohov growled, pointing his wand at the other man's chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, obviously," when Dolohov and the rest didn't seem at all appeased by those words, he sighed and said, "I've been trying to track you lot down for a day. Nice work with those muggles in that cottage, by the way. You should know," Lestrange shrugged, "the Aurors are looking everywhere for you. Snape's with them now, so they will likely find this place before long."

"Bloody fucking Hell..." Rowle shook his head and frowned when he spied the goblin girl tied on the ground. "What's with the little animal over there?"

"That?" Lestrange looked over his shoulder at the small creature and laughed. "That's my insurance policy."

"Insurance policy?" Dolohov sounded exasperated. "What are you on about? We have to go, and we have to go _now_. You're lucky you managed to find us, Rabastan. Amantia here told me that the Aurors were looking for you too ever since you escaped from St. Mungo's."

Rabastan Lestrange shrugged nonchalantly. "The Aurors can't find their own butts with both hands. But you are right that we can't dally here. It's risky. Show me the portkey, Antonin?"

Dolohov frowned and pulled out the ale bottle from underneath the shepherd's old woolen coat that he had appropriated back in the cottage.

"There," he lifted it up. "Someone go get Pettigrew. Then everyone grab on an-"

He never got to finish. The bottle shattered in his hands, sending shards of green glass everywhere. Rosier and Amantia cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, cut by the flying pieces.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that, Antonin," Lestrange said calmly, his wand suddenly pointed at the older Death Eater. "We have a duty to the Dark Lord, and I won't let you worm out of it."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Dolohov roared, his twisted face turning into a mask of rage. "You filthy, insane bastard! _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Lestrange nimbly jumped out of the way of the emerald ray as it hit the ground next to Peter. The Death Eater rolled back on one knee, pointed his wand at Dolohov and cried, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

The spell hit Dolohov square in the chest. In an instant his limbs and face went deathly still and he fell on his back with a hard thud.

Lestrange got up and strode towards the fallen Dolohov.

"You fucking coward," he hissed, his voice not nearly as collected as it had been before. " _Crucio!_ "

Peter knew well the effects the Torture Curse had on its victims. He still remembered how he had thrashed under it on Dolohov's orders just two days ago. But Dolohov did not move at all, frozen by the Body-Bind curse. Peter could only imagine the pain he must have felt.

"You were going to escape?!" Lestrange snarled. " _Crucio!_ How dare you? He needs us! _Crucio!_ "

"Fucking Hell, Rabastan, what are you doing?!" Rookwood cried out, though he seemed reluctant to interfere physically, "The Dark Lord is dead! We have to get out of this fucking country!"

"Dead?" Lestrange sneered as he continued to torture the immobilized Dolohov. "He's not dead! He's alive, Augustus! And this coward was going to abandon him! _Crucio!_ "

As the torture continued, the haze of Dolohov's Imperius slowly began to melt away from Peter's mind. Suddenly, he found out that he could move on his own, and he sat up, staring at Lestrange.

The rest of the Death Eaters looked on as he continued with the Cruciatus. Nott and Rookwood seemed almost afraid, Thorfin's expression was hard to read though the big man seemed intrigued more than anything else, and Amantia and Rosier were more concerned with their own pain caused by the pieces of glass that had injured them. Peter heard a muffled sound and turned to look at the bound goblin. Her tiny, black eyes were staring at Lestrange with terror and... familiarity, as if she had seen similar sights before.

Finally, Lestrange stopped, took a deep breath and stepped away from Dolohov's body. By that time Peter was completely free of the Imperius. He crawled towards the fallen Death Eater. His breathing was shallow and uneven, but he was still alive.

"Now," he heard Rabastan Lestrange say, "Let's go. I have a safe place where the Aurors won't find us. We have work to do." With that he pulled out an ornate, golden ashtray from the pocket of his jacket. " _This_ portkey won't take us out of Britain, but we are needed here. Oh, Peter?" Peter turned his head and stared at Lestrange. "Take care of the body for me, would you?"

He looked back at Dolohov. For a moment he thought he glimpsed a plea for mercy in the frozen Death Eater's eyes.

"Come on," Lestrange urged. "Be quick about it."

So Peter put his hands under Dolohov's body and started rolling him over towards the edge of the cliff. He hesitated, but then he remembered how Dolohov had been the guiding mind behind the attack on the muggles in that cottage, how he had ordered Rowle to torture him. And then the final push came easy.

He watched as the body of the immobilized Death Eater fell from the spire and crashed into the rocks half-hidden by the sea below. After that he got up and joined Lestrange and the others.

Then they all disappeared, leaving nothing behind.


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **August 3, 1982, The Ministry of Magic**

Ted left back for St. Mungo's at noon, having been of absolutely no use. All he could tell from the autopsy on the remains of Antonin Dolohov was that he had died from falling onto the rocks that were half-submerged by the sea below the steep cliff on the shores of Scotland.

Severus stared at Ted's report in his hand as he walked, feeling utterly powerless and hating every second of it. He didn't doubt that Andromeda's husband was a decent healer who knew his field of work well... but even Severus could have guessed the cause of death on his own. _Having Tonks come here was a waste of time,_ he sighed inwardly.

But no, it was no use to try and cast fault elsewhere, not when the blame lay within.

Dolohov had died from the fall, and the sea had washed away whatever little evidence there might have been on the body by the time Severus, Dawlish and Shacklebolt had arrived there. As he climbed from the Morgue back towards the Auror Department, Snape couldn't help but blame himself for their failure yesterday. If he had thought to check the Scotland location earlier, if he had even remembered about those places from where one could escape a magical blockade thanks to the intersecting ley lines on the day when the inner circle had escaped... Though the most bitter thought was that if he _had_ listened to Lupin and not wasted half an afternoon with Peter Pettigrew's mother before, they might have arrived in Scotland in time to capture the whole band of fugitives, instead of just finding Dolohov's bloody remains. Naturally, he hadn't admitted _that_ particular notion to Lily last night. He grimaced, partly because his bad leg stung from the climb, and partly because his pride was wounded far worse. _I fucking let them slip through my damned fingers._ _Again._

He took a deep breath when he finally reached the Department. It was busy and noisy, like it always was. Each Auror worked in an open cubicle of their own, and each cubicle looked different. Some had desks strewn with parchment scrolls and strange, clockwork-like devices and occult artifacts. Others had their thin walls adorned with maps or photographs of suspects and wanted criminals. Men and women, all clad in leather uniforms, were scurrying about like ants. And they all talked. With each other, muttering under their noses or even yelling at someone else at the other end of the hall. Severus sidestepped one heavy-set Auror who was hauling a chained, shifty-looking bloke to an interrogation room, and almost crashed into a small clerk carrying a stack of wanted posters. Severus looked at them, and seeing the ugly mugshot of Thorfin Rowle, he almost sighed.

"Oi, Snape!" a rough voice shouted. Severus stopped and turned to look at its direction and scowled when he saw a ruddy face with a strong, pronounced chin covered by coarse black beard. _Savage_ , he sneered inwardly. _As if the day couldn't get any better..._ "How's yer case goin'?"

The Auror did not even try to hide the mockery in his voice. Savage has been one of his most... merciless detractors since the first day Severus had walked into the Auror Department. Snape found the man to be generally unpleasant, but, oddly enough, he had come to respect his open dislike. Savage was not willing to trust and work side by side with a former Death Eater – and he had made his opinion known to everyone, Severus included. And that _was_ much better than the constant whispers and gossiping that went on behind his back. He was Fudge's puppet, Dumbledore's planted spy... some even claimed that his loyalty still belonged to the Dark Lord – no matter Snape's well-known role in the last days of the war, or the fact that the Dark Lord was bloody dead. At least Savage had the decency to insult Severus in his face. _Not to mention his wit is rather pathetic. The Marauders were better when they were_ thirteen _._

"It's going," Severus answered mildly. "Just got a report on Dolohov from the Morgue. Say, Henry," he gave the man a snide smile, "and how goes your search for the vampire nest in Snowdonia?"

Both Severus and Savage knew that the case was a dead end, the murders likely carried out by some regular muggle madman instead of a magical creature. However, the Auror was not able to close it down just yet. A week ago Robards had secretly left a set of dentures with long, sharp canines on Henry's desk with a greeting card from the Snowdonia Park saying "Wish you were here". Savage's wrath had been a sight to behold. Some of the younger members of the Auror Office still snickered quietly when the older man passed them by.

Savage's mouth curled in anger as he drove a hand over the black bandanna that covered his balding head and gave Severus the two-fingered salute with the other. Severus simply walked past him. He had more pressing matters to attend to than butting skulls with Henry Savage.

Back when he had formed his task force, Severus had sequestered an old interrogation chamber to serve as a common office for him, Shacklebolt, Dawlish and Robards. The four of them needed a secluded space to work on their targets. Privacy was needed, both for peace and security. After they had captured Richard Goyle in March, the rest of the Department started calling the remote office _The Hunting Shack_.

When Severus entered the Shack, he saw that his team was at work, digging at a whole lot of nothing. Kendra was standing before the huge map of Britain that they had nailed on one of the walls after the riot in Azkaban. She was studying the pattern of the intersections between the magic ley lines, tracing the red lines with her long fingers. John was sitting behind his desk, shoveling through the psychological evaluation reports for the Death Eaters.

It was pointless, all of it. They had gone through the maps and the reports tens of times by now. They had even tried questioning relatives like Pettigrew's mother _–_ in vain, as it turned out. Their biggest shot was finding the place from where they were going to try and escape from Britain. Knowing his former associates, Severus had put together the theory that the fugitives were likely led by Antonin Dolohov who, after the death of Lucius, was the closest thing the inner circle had to a second-in-command for the Dark Lord. Dolohov was cold and practical, he would have chosen the spot from which the portkey jump would be the easiest and most secure. _It was a good theory,_ Severus gritted his teeth. And it _had_ been. It was sensible and realistic, taking into account the most likely outcomes considering who the escapees were and their immediate circumstances.

The only problem was that when they arrived there yesterday, the _one_ thing they found was the broken corpse of Dolohov. Merlin alone knew where were the rest of them now. Why was Dolohov killed? By whom? With what purpose would the rest of the fugitives slay their leader? So far, the answers to those questions were beyond the reach of Severus and his team.

John Dawlish raised his eyes when he heard Snape enter.

"What did the healer say?" he asked.

"Nothing useful," Severus grumbled, leaning on his new cane. "As far as he could tell, Dolohov was not murdered by a spell. Tonks said he might even have been alive just before he crashed into the rocks. He was positive that the fall must have killed him if that was indeed the case."

Dawlish blinked. "And that's _all_?"

Severus shrugged. "If there were any clues on the body, the sea washed them off before we arrived."

"Fuck..." the Auror sighed and gave him a measuring look. "Should we call for another healer? Perhaps your acquaintance missed something."

 _Don't lash out, Snivellus_ , he scolded himself. _Dawlish is just his industrious, insufferable self_.

"Do you think they've escaped?" Kendra Shacklebolt made Severus throw a glance at her direction. She was still standing before the map, arms crossed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "The whole thing is a mess. I was sure they would try to escape from Scotland, and we _know_ that Dolohov and _at least_ one more were there. But why kill him? It only leaves us a clue, like a sign that says "Look, the Death Eaters were here!" Severus sighed heavily and shook his head. "It doesn't make sense."

A faint cough made all three Aurors turn their heads towards the door. Dolores Umbridge stood at the entrance of the Shack, her bright pink attire almost shimmering in the dimly-lit Auror Department. The Minister's aide smiled innocently at them.

"Mr. Snape," her voice was polite and almost giddy. To Severus that felt like nails on a chalkboard. "Would you please be so kind to escort me to the Minister's office? I fear he has need of you for a little while." She looked Severus over and said, "I suggest you bring your muggle attire, Mr. Snape."

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, Severus and Fudge arrived before the big building, both dressed like muggles. _Alright, I didn't expect that_ , Snape admitted to himself, staring at the neatly laid black bricks and the heavy door flanked by two tall windows. Back at the Ministry, when Umbridge had summoned him, he was almost expecting Fudge to sack him for his failure to capture the errant prisoners. A tiny, tired part of him would have welcomed that. But mostly, he was outraged at the thought of becoming the scapegoat for Fudge's stupidity. As it turned out, however, the Minister of Magic had something quite different in mind and now Severus was standing in front of 10 Downing Street. _The seat of the British Prime Minister. Interesting_.

Severus knew, of course, that the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was not really in effect for a lot of muggles. His own father had been a muggle and very much aware of the magic talents of his wife and son. Lily's parents had also known about their world, as did Petunia. And so did hundreds, if not thousands, of other families whose children were being sent to Hogwarts to harness their gift and learn to control it.

But it did not stop there. A lot of ignorant wizards and witches thought the muggles to be a primitive folk, only a step above the prehistoric cavemen. The truth was more complicated. The Wizarding World could never have existed as it had without the knowledge and the blessing of the muggles who ran this country. _Only_ a select few of them knew, that much was certain, but it was inevitable.

"Here we are, Severus," Cornelius Fudge said mildly. "Best we come in, then. We are expected."

Severus had always imagined that it should be harder to enter into the residence of the Prime Minister, but apparently Fudge was not jerking him around. They _were_ expected. Severus noticed at least five broad-shouldered men dressed in black suits, and suspected that there were more lurking about. _Security guards_. None of them tried to stop them. Quite the contrary – the Minister and Snape were ushered into the building quickly.

From the inside, 10 Downing Street did not seem as stern and foreboding, and instead it was decorated stylishly. _Muggle and wizard politicians alike, they all enjoy the display of power_ , Severus thought as they were escorted towards a room on the second floor. He wondered what was this all about. He suspected that it had something to do with the Death Eaters. Why else would Fudge require him?

"Best if you let me talk, Severus," Fudge whispered at him. "I heard that muggles call her _The Iron Lady._ "

"Then I'm glad I have you here, sir," Severus answered, somehow managing to keep his voice serious. Fudge nodded, either oblivious or uncaring for Snape's derision.

The room they were led into did not look like how he imagined the Prime Minister's office. _Then again, we're likely not in her office. This place is big enough_. Severus saw more guards inside, as well as a couple of older men in grey suits who didn't have the look of security personnel. And then there was the muggle Minister herself. She was not a young woman, but she still seemed strong enough to Severus. She had dark blonde hair and a serious face that did not mirror the obsequious smile that dawned on Fudge's face. _All in all, we wizards drew the short stick it seems_.

"Mr. Fudge," she nodded at the Minister of Magic and gestured at one of the wide armchairs that were arranged before her. Her demeanor seemed somewhat chilly. "Have a seat, please."

"Of course, of course," Fudge mumbled with an affable chuckle as he sat down. Severus remained as he was, nobody had addressed _him_ , after all. "I must admit, Madam, I am rather confused as to the nature of this meeting. We're all worried about that nasty business with the prisoners, but I assure you, we can handle it."

 _Ah, so that's why I'm here. The muggles have caught wind of our troubles, it seems_.

The muggle Minister gave him a long look, then nodded towards Fudge. One of the men in the grey suits stepped forward and handed him a thin folder. Fudge opened it and his face paled in an instant.

"Oh dear Merlin!" he breathed out and closed the folder before Severus could see what was inside.

"Mr. Fudge," the woman spoke softly but firmly, "when you and I first met, you led me to believe that your... _war_ was over and that the criminals responsible were dealt with. Just as your predecessor was always assuring me that the whole thing was a trivial matter that would soon be resolved. Until she was... assassinated, if I'm not mistaken?" Fudge nodded, dumbfounded. "And when you informed me of those escaped felons of yours, you once again swore that the matter was going to be put to rest quickly."

"I... I... We are doing what we can! Yes! What we can!"

The muggle Minister leaned forward and fixed him with her eyes. "Mr. Fudge, I do not ask for much. We leave your people to your own devices, you leave us to ours. But I cannot and will not close my eyes to such a brutal attack. Not when I'm supposed to believe you that it's all over."

Severus frowned. It was time to interfere. He stepped forward and leaned on his cane, gathering everyone's attention.

"May I see this folder, please?" he asked.

The woman eyed him calmly. "And who might you be, Mr...?"

"Severus Snape. I am the one responsible for the search of the escaped prisoners you mentioned."

"I see," she nodded. "Mr. Fudge told me he'd speak with the man he put in charge of the investigation. Very well, Mr. Snape, have a look for yourself."

"Ah, yes, that's Severus," Fudge was sweating as he handed him the folder. "One of our most capable Aurors. Appointed him myself."

Severus opened the folder. It contained a bunch of photographs and a single-page Police report that apparently was filled by Scottish officers. _Hm._

Snape's black eyes skimmed over the report, focusing on the photos. Then he immediately understood Fudge's earlier reaction. _Sweet Merlin, she's almost a child..._ He quickly turned over the picture of the young girl's bare, bloodied body and looked at three other photos, showing the corpses of an old man and a hairy dog from different angles. Unlike the girl, their bodies did not bear any wounds and showed no signs of violence. Almost like...

"You are certain that those murders were carried out by wizards?" he asked and looked up from the folder to meet the muggle Minister's hard eyes.

"In so far that the authorities couldn't find any cause of death in the bodies of the man and the dog," she said calmly. "No injuries, no illnesses, no poison, not even a sudden, inexplicable organ failure. Nothing. It's as if they simply dropped dead. The girl is a different story, obviously," she pursed her thin lips. "The forensic investigators and the post-mortem examination confirmed that she was raped and then her neck was broken."

 _Yes. So Thorfin Rowle was there, at least_. Or so it seemed...

"Where were the bodies found?" he asked, hoping that it wasn't going to be in Scotland. _Is that why they killed Dolohov? He wanted to escape but the rest would rather torture and kill muggles?_ No, that made no sense. Nott was a coward and Rookwood valued his own life more than anything. They would have fled from Britain without a second thought. Rosier was young and always eager to prove himself strong... but, again, not if that would mean a risk for his safety. Rowle and Selwyn were more brutal, but Severus had thought they'd rather defer to the inner circle. _And Pettigrew?_ he asked himself. _Where does Wormtail play into all of this?_ He almost shook his head. Who gave a fuck about Wormtail?

"A lone cottage in Northeastern Scotland," the muggle Minister answered. "The man owned a few sheep. We discovered a few more things," she added and said, "Give the _other_ folder to Mr. Snape, Anthony."

Another of the men in the grey suits moved and, indeed, gave a second folder to Severus. He opened it and almost cursed out loud.

He stared at a pile of filthy, striped rags. The same type that all the prisoners in Azkaban were forced to wear. _That would explain why Dolohov's body was dressed in normal clothes_.

"Yes," he gritted through his teeth. "It's them. The men that I am hunting are the ones responsible for these deaths."

"We guessed as much," the Minister shrugged. "They probably disguised themselves in order to avoid any immediate suspicion. What we can't explain," she frowned, "is why there are only seven pairs of your shirts and trousers here."

Severus blinked, confused. "Why wouldn't there be?" he wondered. "There are seven of them."

The woman gave him a strange look. "Are you certain of that?"

"I am convinced. I know exactly how many escaped from Azkaban and who they are."

"Then, Mr. Snape, please do tell us who were the other two men inside the house?"

His throat felt dry and his mind was suddenly abuzz, as if on the verge of getting an answer it had been desperately seeking. He forced himself to take a deep breath and collect himself.

Slowly, he eased his death grip on the cane's handle and asked, " _What_ other two men?"

"Take a look," the muggle Minister nodded towards the folder in his hand. " _My_ people may not be able to cast magic spells, Mr. Snape, but they do know this and that about scientific investigations. So far," she leaned back in her chair, "we have identified eleven sets of footsteps and fingerprints, not counting the dog, of course. Two sets were matched for the shepherd and his granddaughter, who lived there. Seven different ones from your convicts, as well as semen from one of them. They aren't recognized in any of our databanks, naturally. But the inspectors found two _more_ , that belong neither to the family nor the felons. One is... odd."

As she spoke, Severus had turned over a few pages in the folder and was watching close-up photographs of dusted fingerprints and tracks from shoes. He was vaguely aware of the procedures involved in muggle criminal investigations, largely thanks to his childhood as a half-blood living in a muggle neighborhood, but he knew that such techniques allowed the identification of criminals. If the muggle policemen had managed to distinguish two more people, he was inclined to believe their judgement – at the very least it was more than he had to show for it all at this point.

 _But... who was there?_ What piece of the puzzle was missing? _The seven go to this cottage. They kill the family and disguise themselves. Dolohov was still alive, because he wore muggle clothes when we found his corpse and one of the seven unidentified sets of prints they discovered must be his. So... they kill the family, disguise themselves and leave for the secret spot from where they intend to leave Britain. And either someone was in there with them – meaning they met almost immediately after their escape from Azkaban... or that same someone went to the cottage after they left – meaning he was likely trying to track them. Then Dolohov fucking washes up dead just below the spire from where they could have escaped_. What was he not taking into account? Could it be...

 _Oh Merlin..._ Could it _really_ be? _Rabastan. He set up Karkaroff with the Imperius and the fiendfyre. He probably never aimed for Azkaban because Fudge broke the procedure, but he must have heard about the riot._ Fuck, he may have even _seen_ the wanted posters all around Britain and deduced the most likely place from where the fugitives might try to escape, much like Snape himself had done.

Then his eyes found the last photo. He immediately understood what the muggle Minister had meant when she said that there was something odd.

Severus was not looking at the imprint of a human hand. The palm was too small and the fingers – disproportionally long. In the photo there were two such prints, close to each other, as if the wrists had been bound tightly and the person, or the creature as the case may be, was on their knees.

And then he finally had it. Three days and nights without sleep, three days and nights of endless frustration and the feeling of chasing your own tail, three days and nights of fearing for the safety of the love of his life and her child. _But I have you now, you fucking bastards_.

Very carefully, Severus closed the folder after he took the last photograph out. He looked at it for another moment before raising his eyes to meet the muggle Minister.

"Thank you for your time, Madam," he said softly. "I do not know if your business with Minister Fudge is concluded... But I have business of my own to conclude. You may not realize it now, but you have been of great aid to us all. All I would ask is to let me keep this picture, the one with the odd imprint."

She nodded, hesitantly and slowly. "I take it you know what it means, Mr. Snape."

"Oh, I do," he turned and walked towards the door, allowing himself a predatory sneer. The muggle Minister must have nodded her permission because the security guards moved out of his way. "I'll walk myself out, Minister Fudge, don't get up," he called without turning to look at the inept old man. "I remember the way."

* * *

When he returned to the Hunting Shack, he found Shacklebolt and Dawlish sharing a large chicken pot pie.

"How did it go with Fudge, boss?" Kendra asked him between bites. "Come and get some grub, we barely left anything."

Severus ignored the food and instead shoved the photograph into her hand.

"Quick. What is this?" he looked at her eagerly.

"What is it? Why doesn't it move?"

"It's a muggle photograph. They don't move," Severus waved a hand, annoyed. "Forget about that, look at the image. What do you see?"

She cocked her head, raising her eyebrows slightly. Wordlessly, she handed the photo to Dawlish.

"A... goblin?" he frowned and Shacklebolt nodded. Both Aurors looked terribly confused.

Severus almost smiled at them.

"Leave the fucking pie and get dressed. I'll explain on the way. We're going to Gringotts."


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **August 3, 1982, Hogwarts**

It was somewhat difficult for Lily to focus on the task at hand. Sev's visit last night and the news he had muttered before he fell into a deep, exhaustion-fueled sleep were still blazing in her memory. The curiosity was almost tearing her apart. Unfortunately, Sev had left her house very early, before the sun rose and before she awoke, so it wasn't as if she could simply satisfy her eagerness for news with a few questions. Lily hoped that she was going to see Sev soon. She was beginning to worry that he was putting too much strain on himself. It had been bad before, when they had hunted Lestrange and the rest of the Death Eaters, but ever since the breakout from Azkaban, Sev's work had devoured almost all his energy and attention. _I have to find a way to relax him, even for a little bit_ , she thought.

She eyed the interior of the Dungeons, trying to concentrate. In her time here as a student, Lily had shown a talent for brewing potions that was surpassed only by Sev's among her peers. And even though she wasn't a Slytherin, she had quickly become one of Horace Slughorn's favorites, even joining his famous Slug Club.

Lily had spent a lot of time here and knew the place well. Horace's approach to teaching Potions had been somewhat... traditionalist. He was a polite, amiable man, and yet the Dungeons were dark and dank, looming and foreboding. In Lily's view that simply wasn't going to do.

To brew a potion correctly, even the simplest ones, first and foremost you needed to be able to see what you were doing. The classrooms had been using torches and old, flickering oil lamps for light until now, but Lily thought that natural sunlight worked much better. She had planned to have deep shafts dug upwards into the stone walls to allow the day to shine inside during the classes thanks to the angle of the trenches and a system of mirrors she had devised. She had also made designs to rearrange the classroom in such a way that the students would be able to move more freely around the cauldrons, as well as working on ideas for improvements of the measures of safety and ventilation. _And so on, and on_ , Lily sighed inwardly. _At least I should be thankful that this is Hogwarts_. The castle was... malleable to magic and, barring anything unforeseen, in less than three weeks Lily was probably going to be able to do work that would have taken at least a couple of months and a whole construction crew in a muggle building. _Most of it is going to be the thinking and the planning, anyway. Everything has to be done just right_. And after that she'd have to go through the curriculum, as well as make sure that all the supplies needed for the start of the school year were delivered on time, and a ton of other things. _And in between I have to make sure Sev is alright and won't start overworking himself._

Harry began to fuss and she turned her head to look at him. He was not thrilled with being put in the stroller. Her son liked to walk and explore on his own, but today Lily had needed her concentration to be as full as possible and had decided that she needed not to look over her shoulder every two seconds to make sure he's not in trouble. _I suppose we're done for now,_ she told herself, figuring that she had taken all the necessary measures and had gone through the plans of the school (so old that they were drawn on a huge piece of parchment) and she'd start working on the walls and the light shafts tomorrow.

"Are you ready to go home, Mr. Grumpy Pants?" she smiled at Harry as she crouched in front of his stroller and reached a hand to gently boop his nose with her finger.

"Please, one more hour of doing _nothing_ in this empty cellar and I'll hang myself!"

Lily sighed and looked at the Auror who was sitting on top of the teacher's desk and was giving her a look of pure, exaggerated despair.

Gawain Robards had returned to her this morning after Sev had dismissed him last night to give them privacy and could not be dissuaded from accompanying her despite her protestations that Hogwarts was safe. What Lily found truly maddening was that the Auror had turned out to be a bigger distraction than Harry. He hadn't acted overly terrible, but every now and then he would do something that would snatch Lily's attention for a second and distract her like humming dirty limericks under his breath or dropping and breaking a phial of old regerminating potion as he rummaged through Slughorn's cabinets. _He has the patience of a puppy_ , she groaned inwardly. You had to be blind and deaf, and soft in the head not to see that the man itched to be out there with his team, hunting dark wizards.

"I told you that you didn't need to come today," Lily reminded him as they left the Dungeons and headed towards the first level of the castle.

"Yeah, well, the boss wants me to keep you safe, so safe you are going to be kept, Ma'am," Robards answered dryly.

Despite her protestations and the general desire not to have a bodyguard following her around like a duckling, Lily had found something to be glad about. Robards was clearly miserable playing the role of the duckling and was not even convinced that she was in any imminent danger, and yet he had stayed at her side, pestering and shadowing her constantly. _And he only does it for Sev's sake_.

The truth was that Sev had never had a lot of friends. He had had her, of course, since before they even came to Hogwarts, and Lucius Malfoy as well later in life... and not many more. He had refused to see it back in school, but that gang of nasty Slytherins who later became Death Eaters were never his friends, not really. They had liked the mean streak he had displayed when he had been trying to fit into that dark group, but most of them would have had nothing but scoff and scorn for his cleverness and the caring nature he tried so hard to hide from everybody. Sev didn't like it to admit it even today, and back then he had hated it, but he was a good man. _No, the_ best _man._ So she was happy that nowadays he was having more positive relationships than he ever had before; while it was probably a stretch to say that Narcissa and the Tonks family were his _friends_ , they still treated him amicably and respectfully. And apparently it was at least somewhat similar with those who worked alongside him in the Auror Department.

"How did you start working with Sev?" Lily blurted out, startling herself. Sev had actually never told her a lot of details about the forming of his team, just the vague, basic story how Cornelius Fudge had allowed him to pick whoever he wanted in order to capture the Death Eaters who had eluded the law after the Battle for Hogwarts.

"Hah, that's a good one. The boss never told you?" Lily shook her head. "Well," he sighed, "they brought him in, what, two months or thereabout, after Lestrange escaped from St. Mungo's. The Minister claimed he had a man who has a unique perspective on the Death Eaters problem and how to solve it, even if he hadn't gone through the formal training, and that this man was going to choose a bunch of us to help him catch Lestrange and the rest. And so one day the boss walks in, calm as you please," Robards laughed, then stopped himself as he looked down at Lily, "You have to understand, Ma'am, the lot of us, we knew _of_ him since before the war ended. We suspected he was a Death Eater, or at least one of Lucius Malfoy's accomplices – whom we also suspected but had no proof. Those buggers always did a good job of covering their tracks for most of the war. So," the Auror took a breath before he went on, "in walks Severus Snape, the same Snape who was a former suspect, the same Snape who was falsely accused of assassinating Bagnold last year, the same Snape who fought on our side in the battle here, and then he introduces himself as the newest addition to the Office and the one tasked to catch Lestrange."

"Now, y'see, Ma'am, most of us don't take kindly to the presence of dark wizards. And to some, here was standing a dark wizard who was making us look like fools. So here comes Savage, he's a big, mean, old bastard, and says that he'll be damned if some, and I quote, boy who used to play with the Dark Arts will be allowed to play at being an Auror too. The boss had his cane with him. Savage says that he'd disarm Snape before the boy can blink. Then he reaches out, right quick, and pulls the cane out of his hand. _See_ , Savage says, _the oldest trick in the book, he hides his wand in his cane, just like his buddy Malfoy used to do_. Then he tries to draw the wand from the scabbard – nothing's happening, it's a solid piece of wood, no funny business. And then he realizes that the boss had hidden his wand up his _sleeve_ , and has the point shoved right in Savage's neck. Then the boss smirks at Savage and tells him he'd better start rereading the book and offered to let him keep the cane if he needs it in his old age. I laughed so hard I thought I'd burst a vessel," Robards chuckled, as if to demonstrate.

"I went to the boss and told him I'm signing up for that team of his whether he wants me or not. John and Kendra came the same day. Kendra wanted to get Lestrange because of her brother's death last year, and John wanted to keep an eye on the boss just in case. To be honest, Ma'am, we didn't believe that the boss could truly be a proper Auror. You know, we actually started calling him _boss_ as a joke, and he knew it, but he proved himself when we caught Goyle in that big chase all the newspapers wrote about, and in Birmingham too. He saved my life there, he did."

Even today, after knowing him for the bigger part of her whole conscious life, Lily was still amazed at Sev's ability to keep his private thoughts and experiences a secret. _He should have told me that the Aurors did not greet him as one of their own_. Not that it came as a surprise, knowing what she knew about what sort of people most Aurors were... as well as what sort of a person _Sev_ was, but a part of Lily wished that he had confided in her so she could have supported him more and tried to make it easier if she could.

* * *

They exited the castle and made their way towards Hagrid's hut and the far end of the school's grounds from where they were going to apparate to Hogsmeade. The day was cooler than the previous ones had been, and the clouds in the sky held a promise of rain. Lily enjoyed the breeze as they passed by the shore of the lake.

As they came closer to the home of the gamekeeper, Lily noticed that Hagrid was talking animatedly to a man. She almost sighed. _Sigmund Laszlo._ She wondered what business did the Head of Slytherin had with Hagrid.

"For Morríghan's sake, man, would you just _listen_ to me?!" Laszlo cried in exasperation, gesturing angrily. "There is almost a whole month until the start of the term! I don't _want_ them to grow big and healthy!"

"That ain't the way to treat lil' critters, Mr. Laszlo," Hagrid shook his big head stubbornly.

"You have _got_ to be joking with me! We've been having this conversation for fifteen minutes now! I have business to attend to, I can't stay here arguing with you all day!"

 _Huh? What is all this about?_ Lily wondered as they walked towards the gates of the school. Laszlo immediately turned his head when he spied them with his peripheral vision.

"Mrs. Potter!" he called. "Wait, please!"

She stopped, curious to see what was going on. "Can I help you?" she blinked innocently at the Head of Slytherin and then smiled warmly at Hagrid. "Hello, Rubeus."

"Always good to see ya, Lily," the giant grinned at her through his black beard, before looking down. "Hullo, lil' Harry! Ye've grown a lot!" Harry giggled at him from the stroller. Hagrid bent over and reached a huge finger towards Harry who immediately grabbed it with his tiny palms and tried to swing it up and down, as if they were grown-ups who were shaking hands. Hagrid laughed and started moving his wrist, making the toddler think it was happening because of his own strength. Lily couldn't help but smile at their antics.

"'Agrid!" Harry laughed.

"Yes, yes," Laszlo interrupted them and waved a hand impatiently. It was glaringly obvious that whatever argument was going on between him and the gamekeeper, it had sapped him of his usual suave cockiness. "Please, Mrs. Potter, I'm late enough as it is, so could you do me a favor? I seem incapable to reason with him, and if you could come by later in the afternoon and take a parcel for me, I'd be much obliged."

"A parcel?" Lily frowned and looked at Robards who just shrugged. "What parcel? What does it contain?"

"A shipment of grindylow eggs that are due to hatch in a week or so," Laszlo answered as he dismissed Hagrid completely from his attention and gestured for Lily to follow him towards the gates. She turned and waved a goodbye to Hagrid as they started after Laszlo.

"Why are those eggs causing you problems with Hagrid?" she asked.

"I need them for my classes," the Head of Slytherin gave a long-suffering sigh, "It's better for the children to see some of the more harmless Dark creatures in the flesh, no? I have a water tank set up and everything. _Unfortunately_ ," he scowled, "our good groundskeeper insists that I should entrust the eggs to his care until the beginning of the school year and didn't want to listen when I told him I wanted them delivered to my classroom the moment they arrive."

"Well, Hagrid _is_ better than most people when it comes to the care for magical creatures. I'm sure he'll make certain those grindylows of yours hatch properly," Lily shrugged.

"But that's the problem!" Laszlo exclaimed. "I don't want them to grow healthy and strong. It's a safety hazard for the children, water tank and wards or not. I intend to keep the shoal malnourished and will add stunting solutions in the water to slow their growth. They would be too weak to even think to attack the students, and will probably devour the smallest hatchlings early on, so their numbers will remain relatively low. But that oaf refuses to see reason."

Lily furrowed her brow in thought. He had a point, but his callous attitude bothered her a little. She could see now why Hagrid would object to giving up the grindylow eggs. The gamekeeper loved all living things. If he was born a muggle, Lily could easily imagine him taking care of the animals in some zoo or even in a far-away exotic nature preserve. But Sigmund Laszlo, who had never been in Hogwarts before Dumbledore summoned him here, didn't know Hagrid and had provoked the argument.

On the other hand, if she refused to help Laszlo, he would probably take the matter straight to Dumbledore. The simple truth was that as the Head of Slytherin House and a Professor, Laszlo had a lot more pull and power than Hagrid who wasn't even a member of the teaching faculty. Not to mention the familiarity that was evident between Laszlo and the Headmaster. Lily doubted that he could get Hagrid fired or anything like that, but it would be better if she saved her friend from the trouble before it boiled over.

So she sighed and said, "Alright, Mr. Laszlo, I will take the shipment and make sure it gets to your classroom. However," she raised a finger, "in return you will promise me to never insult Hagrid in my presence again. He's not an " _oaf_ ", he's a brave and kind man." _Which is more than I can say for you, it seems_.

"One good turn deserves another, no?" he smirked. "Done, and done, Mrs. Potter. From now on Hagrid will have no truer friend than I!"

Laszlo walked out with them as they left the Hogwarts grounds. Lily looked at the direction of Hogsmeade. The village was not very far from Hogwarts and it could have made for a nice walk, and she could have even taken Harry out of the stroller, but a big gust of cool wind dissuaded her. _Better to get home quick. If the weather doesn't turn bad, I can take Harry for a walk later_.

She turned to Laszlo and said, "At what time do you expect the delivery?"

"No later than half past six, or so I was led to believe," he shrugged and dug into his pocket from where he produced a large key inscribed with the letters _3C_ – the number of the room. "Here's a spare key to my classroom, Mrs. Potter. Leave the eggs wherever it's most convenient, and I'll take care of everything else when I return tonight."

Lily agreed and prepared to disapparate herself and Harry away alongside Robards when Laszlo spoke again.

"Say, Mrs. Potter," he smiled amiably, "You live in Hogsmeade, no?"

"I do. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could show me the way to the train station. I fear I've never been there before, and Albus had me arrive in Hogwarts by Floo."

"Oh," Lily raised her eyebrows. "Alright. I, um, I don't live that close to the station, but it is in the way, sort of. I'll show you where to go," she took a firm hold on Harry's stroller with one hand and offered the other to Laszlo who took it. His grip was soft, but his skin felt surprisingly rough for his clothing and general demeanor, as if he had spent years in a very cold, harsh place. She nodded to Robards and they all vanished in an instant.

As they apparated in Hogsmeade, Lily led them towards the marketplace. From there she could point the way to the train station to Laszlo, as it was pretty straightforward, and then she herself could take the turn towards the bridge and follow the river road to her house. Harry slowed their progress a little as he demanded to be freed from the confine of the stroller and Lily decided to finally oblige her son.

When they reached the market, she glimpsed a face she knew.

Aberforth was talking to one of the vendors and appeared to be selecting the best carrots from the man's stand. Almost two years ago now, long before the end of the war, before even their arrival at Godric's Hollow, the Order had once gathered here, in Hogsmeade. They had used Aberforth's inn for their headquarters for a couple of days before they dispersed and everyone got on their way. Lily didn't even remember the mission that had led them here, but ever since she had remained with the impression that Aberforth's diet had consisted mainly of brandy and cigarettes. The old man certainly never ate vegetables, but he always provided nothing but the best for his pet goats who liked to trot around the inn's dining hall as if they owned it. The memory made her chuckle.

"Aberforth!" she called to him, smiling.

He turned his head, fixed their group with his blue eyes... and then his expression froze.

Lily stopped, confused. She watched as Aberforth roughly shoved the bag of carrots back into the vendor's hands and strode towards them, his hands balling into fists. _What is going on?_

As he drew closer, Lily involuntary stepped back, frightened. Aberforth's face was red and his teeth were bared in fury beneath his white beard.

"Oh, fuck no..." she heard Laszlo gasp next to her. Her head snapped to look at him just as he raised his hands in a pacifing gesture. "Now, now, Aberforth," he laughed nervously, "Don't do anything ra-"

Laszlo never finished.

Aberforth's fist smashed right into the other man's face. Lily cried in alarm and shock. Sigmund Laszlo lost his footing and stumbled back as if he was drunk, before tripping in his own feet and falling on the ground.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Aberforth roared as he knelt over Laszlo's chest and hit him again. "HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE? DOES ALBUS KNOW?" Another fist connected with the nose of the Head of Slytherin. Laszo's neatly-trimmed goatee and his white shirt were splattered with bright, red blood. "DOES HE?!"

A crowd of onlookers was forming a circle around them.

"Somebody stop him!" someone shouted. A few more voices rose, adding to the chaos of the whole scene.

"He brought me here, Aberforth," Laszlo tried to smile snidely at him before another punch wiped his smirk off and he groaned in pain.

Lily just stood there, immobilized by confusion and dismay. Then Robards sobered and remembered to act, as he rushed in, grabbed Aberforth's arm and forcefully dragged him away from Laszlo. Lily forced her feet to move and she stepped towards her fallen colleague, one hand holding Harry's who seemed to be the one most confused.

"Let go off me, boy!" she heard Aberforth roar angrily as he fought against the Auror's grip. "I'm gonna smash this fucker's head in!"

"I don't think so, old timer," Robards said and Lily heard the collective gasp of the crowd. She turned her head and saw that Robards had drawn his wand and his Auror's badge of office. "Now calm down and back off. Or else."

Aberforth gave Laszlo one long, dark look, then he spat on the ground and walked away, elbowing his way through the crowd. Then he stopped and, without turning, said, "You and Albus deserve each other. To Hell with the both of you. I'm done. You tell him that. I'm done."

Lily stared at his back until she lost him from her sight. _What did just happen?_ Why had Aberforth reacted in such a way to Laszlo?

"Mummy?" Harry's voice got her attention and she knelt to look her boy.

He looked scared.

"It's alright, sweetheart," she whispered soothingly and softly kissed his forehead. "Everything's fine. See?" she smiled, trying to reassure him. "Mummy is okay, you're okay. You understand?"

Harry gave her a small nod, his big green eyes staring at her. "I want Dada," he said plaintively. "Dada chase off the scary man."

"The scary man's gone, Harry," she said, sqeezing his shoulders gently. "The scary man went away. He won't scare you anymore. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry said quietly.

A raspy moan from the ground at her side made her turn her eyes towards Laszlo.

The Head of Slytherin was still laying on his back, looking disheveled and dazed.

"Could somebody please be kind enough to fix up my nose," his voice sounded laboured and nasal, "I think he broke it."

* * *

Later on, Lily was kneeling in front of James' trunk in the attic, her mind working furiously.

Harry was currently napping, feeling exhausted after the whole ordeal at the marketplace. Robards was downstairs, watching the TV in the living room. That left her with some time to think and make some plans.

It had been somewhat a surprise to her, but after she had healed Laszlo's broken nose and had helped him cleanse the blood stains off his clothes, the Head of Slytherin had continued on with his business, heading towards the train station. _He must have something very important to do._ And that had turned her from curious to suspicious. She had asked him a few questions, but he refused to speak of his task, claiming that it was personal. He had also not told her from where he knew Aberforth and why had the innkeeper almost lost his mind because of him. The only thing she got out of Laszlo was " _Go and ask Albus, Mrs. Potter, it's his story to tell_ ".

And while that might have been true, Lily had her reservations about Dumbledore and his sincerity. So she had decided to take the matter into her own hands.

After the war, when she sold the cottage in Godric's Hollow and moved to Hogsmeade, she had decided to throw away most of James' mundane possessions, such as his clothes, keeping only a few truly important items. His glasses, his wand, his father's watch, his yellow-and-red Gryffindor scarf, things like that. What she now searched for was wrapped in an old cloth at the very bottom of the trunk. She dug it out and slowly rolled the cloth off, her fingers strangely shaky.

She looked at... nothing. But as she moved her hand inside the cloth, she could feel the material, smooth, light and silky.

 _James' invisibility cloak._

It was an old magical artifact, passed in the Potter family for generations. James had not told her of it until they had been already engaged. She had been more surprised than she really ought to have been when she found out how it had helped for the success of many of the Marauders' pranks back in school. During the time they had hidden in Godric's Hollow, James had borrowed the cloak to Dumbledore who wished to study it. The Headmaster had returned it to Lily when she moved in Hogsmeade.

Lily grabbed the cloak, pulled it over her shoulders with one quick motion and turned to the large mirror she had levitated here with that specific purpose in mind.

The sight was a little morbid. The invisibility cloak covered her body from the neck down and the only thing Lily could notice in the mirror was her throat and head, hovering in empty air. She smiled, pleased and took the cloak off.

Lily folded it and shoved it in the little satchel she had prepared. She slung it over her shoulder, returned the rest of James' possessions into the trunk and left the attic.

She glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room as she approached Robards. _Seven. Good_. That meant that Laszlo's shipment must have been delivered to Hagrid's hut already.

The Auror wanted to argue when she asked him to stay home, but she managed to come ahead this time by lying that after she left the grindylow eggs in Laszlo's classroom, she intended to swing by her portion of the Dungeons and take a few more measurements for the placement of the cauldrons. Robards nearly paled and made her promise to travel only through apparition or Floo and to be back as quickly as possible. He was torn between worrying that Sev might come by unannounced like he had done yesterday and completely loathing standing by and doing nothing while Lily worked on her renovations. At the end he gave up and let Lily have her way.

Not that she intended to go the Dungeons at all tonight.

* * *

She passed by the Hog's Head Inn before apparating to Hogwarts' grounds, intending to try and get some answers from Aberforth. At the very least, he had frightened Harry today and she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

The inn turned to be closed. Its door was locked and all the windows were dark. Was Aberforth truly gone? Where was Remus going to stay? She supposed she could let him sleep in her house until he found somewhere else to go, but he would either have to share the guest bedroom with Robards, or one of them was going to have to go to the couch in the living room. Lily's home was not as big as Malfoy Manor was, after all. _And where_ is _Remus?_ she wondered, but decided to leave that mystery for later. If he needed her help, she would never refuse him, but tonight she had a different quarry to hunt.

* * *

Hagrid was reluctant in handing over the grindylow eggs.

"It ain't right, Lily," he lamented. "I knows they are vicious buggers, but the small ones don't deserve no cruelty. They're babies."

She sighed.

"I know, Hagrid," she couldn't really reach his shoulder with her hand, so she consented to simply pat his enormous arm. "But it's better for you not to stand in Laszlo's way. I'll try and keep an eye out for them, make sure he's not too bad to them. Is that alright?"

"I s'pose," the huge man shrugged and watched her sadly as she left his hut and headed up towards the castle, carrying the box with the eggs under one arm.

* * *

Lily hadn't been in the Defense classroom in years. Since her last year as a student, in fact. Still, she remembered it well. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been Sev's favorite subject, just like Potions was hers. Back when Lily still studied here, she – and everyone else, of course – had noticed early on that each year there was a different Professor. Most of them quit after a single year, for one reason or another, but there had been a few freak accidents as well. Lily vaguely remembered hearing some older students whisper that the position was cursed back when she was in her 1st or 2nd year. _If it is, it will be curious to see how Laszlo fares against the curse,_ she smirked inwardly.

So when she unlocked the door and entered, she was curious to see what touches had Sigmund Laszlo added to it. When she was a student, the whole classroom was decorated and renovated anew each year according to the tastes and the needs of the newest Defense Professor. Really, the only constant had been the rows of large, arched windows and the dragon's winged skeleton dangling from the rafters.

What surprised her was that she didn't notice anything _else_. The classroom was completely bare. Just like he had said, Laszlo had installed a rather large water tank in one of the far corners, but there was nothing to indicate a... personal touch. It was as if the Head of Slytherin owned no earthly possessions he wished to display.

 _Alright, Evans, time to get to work_.

She left the unopened parcel on one of the student desks, then she turned and locked the door. She put the key back into the pocket of her jeans. Lily started walking through the room, but her initial assessment had been correct – there was nothing here that was going to provide her with answers. Her eyes turned towards the small, winding stairway that she knew led to the office and the personal quarters of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Lily hesitated only for a moment, then she headed towards it.

Halfway up, she pulled James' invisibility cloak out of the satchel and draped it lightly across her shoulders. _Just in case. It's best to be prepared_.

It still wasn't completely dark outside, and the big windows along with the westward position of the classroom and the office above allowed Lily to see quite well.

Laszlo's office was different than the classroom below. It still lacked any personal items, but it was evident that the man had been hard at work. On what, Lily wasn't sure.

The front page of the issue of the _Daily Prophet_ where they had announced the breakout of the Death Eaters was stapled across a notice board, as if Laszlo wanted to always be able to look at the faces of the escaped convicts. _But why?_

On his desk, Lily saw piles of notes, but Laszlo's handwriting was not in English and seemed rather erratic. A book about the genealogy of the pureblood families of Britain lay open on the page describing the House of Gaunt. Lily had no idea who the Gaunts were. She couldn't recall ever meeting someone with that last name.

She was pondering on whether to go and search through Laszlo's bedroom, when she heard the door below unlocking. She quickly darted towards a corner and put the invisibility cloak over her head, disappearing from view.

The material of the cloak allowed her to see through it. She willed her body to slow down her breathing and prayed she wouldn't make some sound to alert Laszlo. She could hear his footsteps as he walked through the classroom. He stopped for a moment, probably examining the parcel with the grindylow eggs she had left below. She swallowed heavily, almost able to taste the adrenaline that was flying madly through her veins. Then Laszlo began walking again, climbing up. _Do not make a sound, Evans,_ she muttered inside her own mind.

And yet she almost yelped in fear when she saw him enter. He looked _worse_ than when he had left Hogsmeade after the scuffle with Aberforth earlier. His slicked hairstyle was a mess and his trousers were muddy and torn. But what had frightened Lily was the blood. Both his hands were covered in a caked layer of the red liquid, though he didn't seem to be in pain. _That's not his blood_ , Lily thought in a brief, manic moment.

Laszlo took a deep breath and pulled a handkerchief. Lily thought he'd want to clean his hands with it, but instead he used it to pull a ring out of the pocket of his coat, looking deliberate not to touch it with his skin. The gold band shone against a stray, scarlet ray of the setting sun, and the black stone on it glinted. Lily frowned. What was that about?

"You're a fucking barbarian, Riddle," Laszlo muttered angrily before he moved to his desk, passing Lily by a few inches, pulled a drawer and very carefully put the ring there.

Then he walked towards the fireplace, moving away from Lily, much to her relief. He took a long time to light it with matches, old paper from his desk and wood. _Why doesn't he use his wand?_ Lily wondered before she realized that she had never actually _seen_ him using a wand.

After the flames began to crackle inside the fireplace, Laszlo threw a handful of Floo powder into it. The green light illuminated the office in an eerie glow. Then a face appeared in the fire. Lily literally had to bite her tongue so hard that she tasted blood.

"You've returned, I see," Dumbledore's voice sounded calm as it always did. "Well?" he asked. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Laszlo shook his head, before he visibly hesitated. "Nothing that was of use to our plans, anyway. I am still certain that the madman has managed to create a horcrux, but it wasn't there. It's too obvious, Albus. The Gaunt family home? Please, insane or not, you yourself have told me that he wasn't daft."

Dumbledore's face seemed thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Nothing that was of use to us? Then what _did_ you find?"

"As it would seem, you and I were not the only ones who had the same idea. Hold on for a second, Albus," Laszlo raised a finger before he walked to the notice board and tore the newspaper's page with the portraits of the Death Eaters off of it. "See this one?" He pointed at one of them, but Lily was behind him so she couldn't really see without moving. "He came sniffing about just as I was searching the basement."

"Ah," Dumbledore sounded unimpressed. "What did you do with him?"

"What do you think?"

Lily heard the sigh in the Headmaster's voice. "I told you, I want to do this without attracting anyone's attention. This is _our_ responsibility and we must carry it out in silence for the greater good."

Laszlo made a strange sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle. "Relax, Albus. They won't find his body, I assure you. Oh! And stop stealing my phrases, old boy."

"You're incorrigible," Dumbledore said. "Was it necessary to resort to murder?"

"Well... yes," Laszlo shrugged. "He attacked me immediately and it was him or me, and it's not like he was some innocent cherub, no?"

"I suppose that's true."

"Oh, and speaking of incorrigible, guess who I ran into today, Albus?"

"Do enlighten me, if you please."

"Your brother," Laszlo answered tightly. "I trust you'd like to know that Aberforth is still as wild as ever. He broke my nose. You ought to thank Merlin for that little Gryffindor bitch of yours, she fixed me up right away and saved my good looks."

She was so stunned by what she had just heard that her mind didn't even register the slur Laszlo had thrown carelessly at her expense. _His_ brother _?! Aberforth is Dumbledore's_ brother _?!_

"Don't insult Lily," the Headmaster frowned. "I'll have to speak with him tomorrow," Dumbledore's voice sounded grave. "If he recognized you after all this time, he might start talking and I don't need to explain why that would be a very bad thing for both of us, don't I?"

"Please do, I don't fancy getting into another battle with that lunatic," Laszlo shrugged. "Though he didn't say anything today, and there was a whole crowd. I think he's too disgusted with you to even think about spilling our secret. He told me to tell you he's done, or somesuch nonsense."

"He'll see reason when he calms down," the Headmaster answered. "Come into my office," he commanded, "We must discuss our next move."

The Head of Slytherin nodded and stepped into the green fire where he disappeared in a flash of emerald light.

Lily waited for a full minute, before she strode towards the fireplace, threw another handful of Floo powder into it and returned to her home in Hogsmeade.

Her heart was beating madly and her head almost hurt. Robards tore his eyes off the TV when he heard the swoosh of the flames in the fireplace and reached for his wand, but relaxed the moment he saw it was Lily.

"How did it go with the cauldrons?" the Auror joked, then his smile curdled when he saw Lily's expression. "Ma'am?"

"You have to contact Sev at once, Mr. Robards," she panted. "Something very bad is happening at Hogwarts."


	14. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **August 3, 1982, Gringotts**

They arrived at the bank just an hour or two before it closed down for the day. Severus stared at the enormous bronze gates as they climbed up towards the entrance. The sunlight shone against the burnished surface, making them seem almost golden. _As if any goblin would ever waste solid gold on a set of doors_ , he snorted inwardly.

A pair of goblin guards clad in scarlet uniforms trimmed with gilded thread flanked the huge gate. Leaning on his cane with each step, Severus strode to them and flashed his Auror badge to the small sentries. No one could ever say that goblins were an imposing people. They were as short as children, thin more often than not, with tiny palms and long fingers, and pointed ears and noses. In fact, in Snape's opinion, they _looked_ almost as doltish as house elves did.

But that was far from the truth. Any wizard who knew their history well, was aware that there had been bloody wars between wizardly folk and goblins. These creatures were crafty and ruthless, and were far more talented in the arts of magic than many human supremacists, such as the Death Eaters, would have ever cared to admit.

So Severus knew that he needed to handle this with caution. He and his team couldn't just storm into the bank and start digging for any confirmation of their suspicion. Severus would have _liked_ that, he was almost itching to put an end to this whole ordeal, but there was a time and place for everything, and now it was the time and place for a scalpel, not a greatsword.

So he stood in front of the guards, showed his badge of office and explained that they came to see the goblins in charge of the bank in regards to an official Ministry investigation.

Once they were ushered into the main hall, Severus was almost stunned by the opulence. To a man who had spent the formative years of his life in crummy old Spinner's End, the pillars of white marble and the heavy, crystal chandeliers of Gringotts still seemed like the very image of wealth and power. It was no wonder why even in this day and age, there were still people who groused about "those greedy little bastards" over cups of cheap ale. Prosperity bred envy and envy bred hate, Lucius had once said to him. _Combine this with the whole other set of issues like blood purity and the bigotry against anything different, and..._

To make matters worse, goblins were no less proud than even the most ancient and noble pureblood families. If Severus' suspicions were correct and Lestrange had somehow managed to force some of them to aid him, this could all unravel in a very ugly manner very quickly.

The guard who had led them in instructed them to stay where they where and hurried forth, darting past rows of long counters and sidestepping the few remaining clients who were finishing up their business before the bank closed. Severus was used to seeing Gringotts being anthill-like, full of wizards, witches and noise, and now that it was almost empty, the vast hall seemed looming and vaguely sinister. He took a deep breath and leaned his weight on his healthy leg.

"Are you sure about this?" John Dawlish's voice snatched his attention and he turned to look at the Auror. "How could we possibly be certain that _if_ Lestrange was there, and _if_ he got a goblin with him, anyone here would know anything about it? Or even if they know anything, will they tell us?"

Snape shrugged. "We can't be certain of anything yet," he admitted, "But goblins live in close-knitted communities, and most of their British populace works here. I'm not expecting to see Lestrange or the fugitives sitting behind one of those counters, but this is the best lead we've got since the whole thing started." Severus didn't fail to notice how Kendra Shacklebolt's fists twitched aggresively when she heard Lestrange's name. "If we're smart here, I have a feeling that we'll get to the end of it. But we must handle it with care."

"Indeed you must," a scratchy voice came from below and the three Aurors looked down.

Before them stood a very old goblin dressed in a livery of fine black velvet embroidered with gold. The creature had the sharpest stare Severus had seen since the last time he met Albus Dumbledore. Severus took out his badge.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," he said. "My associates here are Kendra Sha-"

"Kendra Shacklebolt and John Dawlish," the goblin nodded. "We know of you and your task force, Mr. Snape. Though the articles in the _Prophet_ mentioned a fourth Auror. I trust that Mr. Gawain Robards is well?"

Severus scowled. The creature was trying to throw him off by interrupting him and showcasing that it knew their identities. _Yeah, that is not going to happen_.

"He is on a mission of his own," Severus replied calmly. "I am most honored that you know of us, but I am afraid that I can't reciprocate...?"

"Oh," the goblin gave him a small smile that never reached its small, dark eyes. "A thousand apologies, Mr. Snape. My name is Nagrok. I am one of the Internal Supervisors of our establishment. So," it eyed the Aurors. "What can Gringotts do for you, gentlemen? And lady, of course."

Snape leaned down slightly, locking his black eyes to those of the banker. "Would it be possible to converse somewhere more... private?"

The creature raised an eyebrow. "Certainly," the Internal Supervisor Nagrok said. "Please follow me."

Nagrok led them to a passageway behind one of the counters. It went beneath the ground, among the caverns that riddled the earth below the bank. Eventually they ended up in what Severus assumed was the creature's office.

The banker gestured for the Aurors to sit as it went to climb the tall chair behind the massive desk. Severus and John sat down, but Kendra chose to remain standing, pacing around the room, never even trying to hide how she looked everything over. Severus almost smiled. His team rarely needed commands anymore. The four of them knew each other well, and she had decided to try and see if that will distract Nagrok and make him slip. _See, goblin? We can play those games too_.

The creature's attention wavered for a second, though to its credit, it managed to compose itself swiftly.

"So, Mr. Snape," the banker crossed its long fingers in front of its wrinkled face, "we are alone. What do you wish to discuss?"

Severus leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming over the handle of his cane.

"Since you knew who we are, Nagrok," he began slowly and purposefully, "I assume that you're also aware of the nature of our business. We hunt dark wizards, and a gang of them escaped from Azkaban half a week ago."

The goblin scrutinized him for a moment before it said, "Everyone knows about that, Mr. Snape. No one in recent memory has ever escaped from that prison of yours, as you are well aware. What I do not know is why has your hunt taken you to my bank."

Severus hesitated, then reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and drew the photograph he had taken from the muggle Prime Minister earlier today. Wordlessly, he handed it to Nagrok.

The goblin studied it for a few seconds before it looked up. "Curious," it said, offering nothing more.

"Goblin handprints," Severus shrugged. "Discovered yesterday in the last known location of the fugitives."

"Could it be a coincidence?"

"I'm sure you understand that I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation," Snape said. "But suffice it to say that the nature of the location is such that, no, we've ruled out the possibility that a goblin could have wandered there by chance."

"I see. But... how can I possibly be of assistance? I can't identify anyone based on a faulty photo of a handprint, Mr. Snape."

"Nobody expects or demands that," Severus leaned forward, looking the banker in the eyes. "But we both know that Gringotts is the one institution that employs most of Britain's goblin population. Your people work here, Nagrok, and they live in your secluded communities around the bank. All we ask for is information."

The goblin sighed. "The war was bad for business," it said, shifting its eyes towards Kendra who was studying a wall adorned with the portraits of rich goblins. "Investments fell apart, escrows were drained dry, scores of wizards emptied out their vaults and moved out of Britain... After the war ended, things started to return to normal, did they not?"

Severus and Dawlish exchanged a glance. "They did," Snape carefully agreed.

"Nobody wishes for another war, Mr. Snape," the goblin grimaced. "And since those criminals escaped from Azkaban, people are starting to fear again. Fear kills prosperity. And yet... I trust you know how delicate the relations between our people are. We can't have Ministry agents going from door to door, questioning and detaining our own."

 _You want to help,_ Severus judged as he listened to the creature, _but you need me to talk you into it. So fucking be it, then_.

"Nagrok," he spoke softly, "you know as well as I do what sort of beliefs the Death Eaters adhere to. If they have a hold on one of your own, trust me when I say this, his or her life is in danger. I admit," he shrugged, "I don't know much about your kind. My interests and expertise lie elsewhere. But I've heard that goblins always have each other's back. We know you don't like us, and most of us don't like you either. So you stick together." Severus paused for a second, letting his words sink in. "I'm not asking you to betray someone so we can detain them, I'm asking you to tell us anything that might point us in the right direction so we could try and save them from an imminent and painful death."

The old goblin stared at him for a long time. Severus returned its stare, refusing to avert his eyes. He felt like the creature was weighing him over, as if he was a bag of galleons. The thought was rather distasteful, but he forced himself to endure.

Finally, the banker lowered its gaze and spoke. "There is a goblin," it said reluctantly. "His name is Carntog. He oversees the fifth Mint. A month ago," Nagrok visibly hesitated before it continued, "Carntog took an indefinite sick leave. He's a widower, see, his wife died in childbirth and so he has an older daughter and a set of infant twins. A month ago he told us that one of the boys had been laid down with a case of Scrofungulus. It's a very contagious disease, so Carntog retreated into his home to take care of his son, as well as not to infect anyone here. We haven't heard from him since then, but yesterday he sent an owl to announce that today he will resume his duties at the Mint."

 _Hm. That's interesting_.

"I didn't know goblins were succeptible to human maladies," John spoke up.

 _Not to mention that he barricaded himself home intstead of taking the sick child to St. Mungo's._

"We thought it strange too, Mr. Dawlish, but nobody was willing to take a risk."

"You say that this Carntog was to return to work today?" Severus willed his body to contain his excitement. "Would it be possible to summon him here so we can speak with him?"

"No," the banker shook its head. "The fifth Mint, much like the first, the third and the seventh, operates only at night. Carntog will not arrive until dark. Perhaps you could return tomorrow morning?"

 _I think not._

"I'd rather we go visit him before he leaves his home."

The banker shook its head.

"We do not allow the Ministry within our community. You know that, Mr. Snape."

He did. And he didn't believe that the goblin would have given him this Carntog's address. That, however, allowed him to spin the situation in the exact direction he desired.

"In that case we will wait for him until he gets here," Severus gave the creature one of his more unpleasant smiles. "Tomorrow he will be exhausted and he'll be in a hurry to get back to his family." Severus glanced at the clock mounted on the wall above the creature's head. It was past seven. "We won't interfere with the rest of your day." The goblin bank worked until much later than muggle ones, since the creatures were tireless and merciless in their perfectionism.

Just then, he heard Kendra hiss out a curse as she dug into the pockets of her longcoat and pulled out a small, lidded mirror.

Suddenly, Severus forgot about everything. The goblins, the bank, even the escaped prisoners. The item in Shacklebolt's hand was a two-way mirror. The other pair had been given to Robards when Severus had selected him to serve as Lily's guard.

Completely dismissing Nagrok from his attention, he nearly leapt from his chair and half-strode, half-limped towards the black-skinned Auror. He snatched it roughly out of her hands and snapped the lid open.

A set of two-way mirrors provided a magic link between the two pairs, and so Severus saw Gawain Robards' bearded face instead of his own reflection.

"What is it?" Severus asked urgently. "Are you under attack? Is she..."

" _We're fine, boss,_ " Robards began, then looked aside as a distant voice interrupted him, " _Ma'am, wait, no-_ "

And then the Auror was gone and Severus was suddenly staring at Lily's beautiful green eyes. _She's alright. Merlin, she's alright_. He allowed himself to breathe.

"Lily, what's going on?" he asked, trying not to allow his anxiousness to show.

" _Sev, you have to come right away. Something's happening, and I think it's connected with-_ "

"I'm coming," he said. He didn't even register what she had to say after she insisted on his presence. If Lily felt that the situation was dire, he trusted her judgement. _Also, I'd rather not discuss anything in front of the goblin_. "I'll be with you in a few minutes," he assured her and then snapped the mirror closed, severing the connection.

Slowly, he turned to Dawlish and Shacklebolt. They were staring at him, looking perplexed.

"You two stay here. I'll try and get back before our goblin arrives. Nagrok," he looked at the banker. "I trust you will accommodate them and arrange a conversation with Carntog."

"Certainly, Mr. Snape, but..."

Severus did not wait for it to finish. He exited the Internal Supervisor's office and headed towards the upper floor. Lily needed him. He didn't know what for, yet... but it didn't really matter. She wouldn't abuse his trust and interrupt his investigations without having a good reason.

* * *

As it turned out, she _did_ have a good reason. Severus' mind was working furiously as he climbed the steep stairway that led to the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts. _Too many things at once, Snivellus,_ he remarked silently. While he had been meeting with the muggle Minister and investigating Gringotts, Lily had gotten it into her head to try and spy on this Sigmund Laszlo fellow she had mentioned to him before.

Severus had his reservations on whether that had been a good idea or not. He was yet to meet this new Head of Slytherin, but if he was an old friend of Dumbledore's, Snape was not inclined to trust him and would have preferred for Lily to stay away from him. _But you can't tell Lily what to do_. _Nor do you have the right to_. Her spirit was strong and independent... almost to the point of being stubborn, if he had to be frank, but he knew her well enough to realize that if she wanted to do something, she'd do it with or without anyone's permission. He loved that daring Gryffindor streak of hers, even though sometimes it could lead to trouble.

 _And sometimes it can lead to something quite different_.

When he arrived in Lily's house, she had been almost too agitated and worked up to properly explain everything she had seen and heard. _Fuck, and using an invisibility cloak..._ His Lily was clever and resourceful, but that could sometimes be dangerous. The only thing that he found irksome was the fact that she had done this behind everyone's back, without consulting him or even Gawain. _On the other hand, I would have advised her to stay away from the whole affair, and if she had – not that_ that _was a possibility – we wouldn't have discovered anything_.

Apparently, Dumbledore and this Laszlo character were up to something. Something secret and dangerous that was connected with the Death Eaters. Lily had mentioned that they were studying the House of Gaunt and researching something called a "horcrux". Severus had never heard of the House of Gaunt and did not know what a horcrux was, but he was going to find out. Lily had also seen a strange ring in Laszlo's office. Severus wondered if it was possible to force the man to allow him to search through his quarters and see what was this all about.

The most significant thing, however, was the fact that, according to Lily, Laszlo had chanced upon and killed one of the Death Eaters while running Dumbledore's mysterious errands. That connected him to the whole mess. Somehow. Unfortunately Lily did not know who of the Death Eaters had died. It wasn't Dolohov because he was already dead, it wasn't Lestrange because she was certain that Laszlo had spoken of one of the escaped prisoners, and it wasn't Selwyn because according to Lily the Head of Slytherin had referred to his victim as a male. But whether it was Nott, Rookwood, Rowle, Rosier or Pettigrew, Snape could not say.

 _How does this all tie together?_ Severus wondered, not for the first time. He could feel it in his bones, everything that was happening was somehow connected, but the threads were evasive and near-invisible. Kendra had told him once that the worst part of an Auror's job was dealing with the unknowns and the riddles surrounding a case. They tended to pile up, threatening to bury you under their weight, only to be violently unraveled at the end. Severus had been experiencing this exact sensation for a while now, and he did not enjoy it at the least. He hoped to finally get some answers tonight, both here and in Gringotts.

* * *

He entered Dumbledore's office without knocking or having announced his arrival beforehand. It was better this way. _Let them be confused._ A suspect's confusion and scrambling were always in your favor.

The two men were deep into a quiet conversation. Severus knew Dumbledore well enough not to be impressed by his long, majestic beard or the ridiculous orange-and-turquoise robe of shining silk. But the other man, oh, he was interesting.

He fit the description Lily had given him of Laszlo just before he headed for Hogwarts. Dressed in a muggle's suit, not unlike Severus himself, tall and slim, the very image of dignified elegance. He was combing his white hair with his fingers as he spoke, as if he was absent-mindedly trying to fix a state of unkemptness.

Both Laszlo and Dumbledore stopped talking when Severus strode inside the office, hitting the floor with the butt of his cane harder than necessary with each step.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice had rarely sounded so lost. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Headmaster," Severus replied flatly, his eyes focused on Laszlo. The man was sizing him up with his shiny, lime-green eyes. "I fear this visit is business, not pleasure, however."

"Who is this man, Albus?" the Head of Slytherin asked, never tearing his gaze off Snape.

Severus did not wait for Dumbledore's responce. He needed to gauge Laszlo's reaction, and he needed to do it quickly.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," he flashed the rosette at Laszlo. He was pleased to notice how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, betraying the man's nervousness. "Sigmund Laszlo, I presume?"

"You know my name, and yet I have heard nothing of you. Strange, no?" Laszlo tried to sneer at him.

"Not at all," Severus smiled coldly. "I still have a few friends in this school, and I am interested in all matters surrounding my former House."

"Severus, what is this about? Sigmund and I are very busy," Dumbledore sounded mildly impatient now. _Excellent. Keep them on their toes, Snivellus_.

"Well, you see, Headmaster," Severus went to the nearest window and looked out, gazing at the summer dusk. _That goblin must have arrived in Gringotts by now_. He hoped that John and Kendra would be able to deal with the situation without him. "I'm sure you know of the case I'm working on."

"I am aware, yes," Dumbledore said nonchalantly. "So is everyone who reads the _Daily Prophet._ "

"Good. Thing is, earlier today Mr. Laszlo somehow found himself involved in my case."

The Head of Slytherin blinked at him, the very image of blamelessness.

Dumbledore gave Severus a long, hard look, his blue eyes cold and suspicious. "Care to elaborate, Severus?" he asked, raising a white eyebrow. "I don't take kindly to blind accusations to my staff and my friends, mind you."

Severus shrugged and began to lie, at the same time focusing his willpower to close down his mind, reinforcing his mental defenses and emptying his emotions. Albus Dumbledore was a powerful Legilimens and Severus had no intention of risking Lily's safety.

"We were tracking down one of the escaped prisoners today," he said slowly, as if he was unsure whether he could trust them with this information. Severus did not trust them at all, but the show itself was important. "We were hoping he might have led us to where the others were hiding. And then our informants reported seeing him in a scuffle with a man that fits your description, Mr. Laszlo. From there the prisoner's tracks disappear. So," he walked closer to the man, "would you be kind enough to tell me what happened today?"

Laszlo's eyes flickered to Dumbledore's. It was only for a fraction of the second, but Severus noticed it. _I have you now_.

And then, suddenly, the office was bathed in a soft, silvery-blue glow as a Patronus in the shape of a raven flew in from the window. Severus blinked. _That's Dawlish's..._

" _We're under attack!_ " it cried. " _Death Eaters have attacked the bank!_ "


	15. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **August 3, 1982, Malfoy Manor**

The rumbling motorcycle landed on the gravel road that led to the gates of the Manor. Lupin stopped the engine and let his eyes sweep over the gargantuan property. The last time he had been here, it was when the Order raided Malfoy Manor just after Prongs' murder. _Padfoot was still alive then_ , Remus thought as he stepped off the bike and patted the traveling bags strapped to the back of it.

He turned his head to look at the sky. The western half of the horizon was beginning to darken very slowly, the sun coloring the sparse clouds in hues of pink and orange. His eyes darted to the east, and he thought he could make out the wan shape of the moon swimming up. It wasn't enough to trigger his transformation, that only happened at night, but it made him nervous all the same. Remus looked at his watch. _I still have enough time,_ he judged. Gringotts was going to be open for about two more hours.

As he approached the gate, Remus could almost feel as if there were hidden eyes all around, watching him. _Why did I even come here?_ he asked himself, not for the first time. _Padfoot's blood_ , the wolf rumbled almost indignantly inside his mind. _Right. And now how do I proceed?_

He _could_ have just flown with the motorcycle over the gate and the walls straight into the sprawling gardens and then just drive until he reached the Manor itself... but the thought was a little distasteful. Narcissa was not expecting him. In fact, she didn't even know that he was coming to check on her, so just dropping himself in front of her door on her cousin's bike felt somewhat unseemly to Remus.

He drew his wand and prepared to summon his Patronus and send it towards the mansion to announce his arrival when, suddenly, the air _crackled_ and Narcissa Malfoy apparated before him.

She was pointing her wand at his chest.

This was not starting well. _Why do I constantly find it surprising how much she is like Padfoot?_ Lupin wondered.

He looked straight into Narcissa's grey eyes and forced his face to ease into what was, he hoped, a small, reassuring smile.

"Hello, Narcissa," he said calmly.

"What are you doing here?" she scowled at him and suddenly he had the completely insane thought that she looked especially lovely when she was angry. In a strange way, it suited her. It was as if beneath the elegant hairstyle, and the exquisite cobalt-blue gown that was probably worth more than all of Remus' possessions combined, and the Manor that stood tall and proud in the distance, she was still a Black – a witch with a dark, dangerous temper. The two sides of Narcissa complimented each other in a harmony that was a bit odd, yet beautiful in its own way.

Then he took a hold of himself, mortified at where this train of thought was leading him. _She's Padfoot's cousin for Merlin's sake. And a widow. You forget yourself, man!_ For once, the wolf inside remained silent.

Realizing that she was expecting a response, Remus cleared his throat and said, "Well, I was just... um, passing by and thought I'd see how you are."

There. That sounded perfectly... idiotic, if Remus could judge by the blonde's expression.

" _Passing by?_ " Narcissa laughed derisively at him. "There's literally _nothing_ around here for miles except the Manor. How exactly were you passing by, Remus?"

Resisting the urge to start pulling his hair because of his own stupidity, Remus sighed, "Alright. I'm sorry for intruding, Narcissa. I wanted only to make sure you're okay after the break-in, and that was presumptuous of me. I'm, uh, I'm going to go. Have a good day."

With that he gave her a polite nod and moved towards Padfoot's motorcycle, ready to start the engine and fly away from this fiasco.

"Remus, wait," her voice was so quiet that it was hard for him to be sure he even heard her. He turned and eyed her, certain that the confusion was etched on his face. Suddenly, he thought that he might have done well if he had shaved this morning, or had his shirt ironed. Remus had never given much thought to his looks before. The werewolf's curse had guaranteed that with his poor health and constant lack of proper sleep, he never looked as dashing as Prongs and Padfoot had anyway. He hadn't even kissed a girl until he was in his 6th year, and it had happened mainly thanks to Prongs' encouragement and Padfoot's wise advice.

And yet, standing before Narcissa Malfoy's grey eyes right now, Remus wished he made a more... presentable picture.

Visibly hesitating, her expression softened and she said, "I shouldn't have been so rude." Remus waited, wondering if she'd offer a full apology. Apparently, she didn't believe in those, because she moved the conversation on. "Would you like to come in?" she asked him, raising a pale, quizzical eyebrow.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Narcissa," he smiled at her.

She waved her wand and the iron gates opened before them. Remus pushed the motorcycle past it and left it on the other side of the walls. Narcissa glanced at it.

"That's Sirius', isn't it?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

Lupin nodded.

"He crashed it into Fenrir Greyback's hideout just before he died," he said softly. "After the war I fixed it up and traveled to Europe with it."

They walked in silence towards the huge mansion for a few moments when she said, "It's good to have someone taking care of it. I'm sure he would be pleased to see you driving his bike."

Perhaps Narcissa was just trying to be polite after the rather terse greeting she had given him. Or perhaps there was a small part of her, buried but maybe not quite dead yet, that had managed to let go of the feud and the resentment that had festered between Padfoot and his family for so many years. _A pity someone had to die before it happened,_ he sighed inwardly.

The silence that fell between them after each brief exchange of words felt somewhat awkward. _Well, that's to be expected, I suppose_.

"How did you know I was outside?" he asked, just to make some conversation.

Narcissa gave him a crooked half-smile, her hand on the handle of the enormous door of the Manor as she turned to look at him. "What, and explain how my wards work so next time you can bypass them?"

Remus chuckled. "I was hoping that next time I wouldn't need to," he joked.

"I'm sorry, Remus, but I don't just hand out open invitations to the Manor. Perhaps next time you might warn me before you come?"

He shrugged lightly, "I didn't want to-"

"That much was obvious," Narcissa interrupted him dryly, causing him to roll his hazel eyes at her.

"Let me finish," he chided, and initially didn't even notice that it was with the same tone he had used on Padfoot when his behavior became too impish for the werewolf's liking. He shook his head lightly. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat, "If I had announced that I'd come to check on you, it would only would have sparked an argument."

She sighed as she led him inside her home. "Remus, I appreciate the gesture, but I don't need you to worry about my safety," she said wearily. "Everything is... I don't know, it's fine, alright?"

 _Why are all Blacks worse than stubborn mules?_ The dark tempers and the mood swings, and the reckless thoughts of their own indestructibility he could live with, if it wasn't all backed up by nothing more than pure, distilled bullheadedness.

"Look," he said, very carefully, "I know I'm probably overstepping my boundaries here, but how it could possibly be fine? It's okay to be scared or worried, Narcissa. I just think," he shrugged again, "that it would do you good to know that you have friends who want to look after you."

She averted her eyes and remained silent for a few moments before uttering a soft "Thank you."

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Remus asked her a few minutes later, when they were standing on a wide balcony overlooking the Malfoy grounds. The rays of the setting sun were glinting golden across the surface of a small lake further into the gardens. He took a hearty drag of his cigarette and watched the bluish smoke as it floated away.

"What's there to talk about?" Narcissa replied, turned opposite to him and leaning lightly on the balcony's railing with the back of her elbows. "Someone broke in, killed one of my house elves, trashed my bedroom and disappeared before I could even see who it was."

Remus frowned. He knew that already, but something about it felt off, as if he couldn't see the forest because of the trees, or whatever the Hell the muggle proverb went.

"Did you have the chance to notice if they took anything?"

Narcissa seemed to hesitate. "Not at first, the room looked more like a battlefield. After I had the elves clean it all up yesterday," she shrugged, "everything seemed to be in order, broken furniture and items notwithstanding. Nothing was missing that I could see." She chewed on her bottom lip, which drew Remus' gaze for some reason. "It's odd, though..."

"What is?" he asked behind a cloud of smoke. She made a face at it and he reluctantly stubbed his cigarette away.

"Thanks," she crossed her arms and shrugged, "The house elves claimed that there was a book missing, as if they came to an empty spot after they put everything else together and restocked the bookshelf. Most of those books were my husbands'," the wolf growled silently at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, "and the ones who were of any value, you know, the rare and the expensive ones, they were untouched. I couldn't identify which book was missing. But who would go through all this trouble for a book? And why?"

"I don't know, Narcissa," Remus admitted. It was true, but he kept to himself the fact that it all gave him an ominous feeling.

"Enough of that," Narcissa said somewhat sharply. "I told you, it's fine. Yes, it was an unpleasant experience. But nothing has ever been accomplished by people who do nothing but act like cats on hot bricks when they face trouble. So, enough."

"As you wish," Remus nodded. The shift in her mood seemed rather sudden to Lupin, but he was sort of used to it with Padfoot, so it didn't shock him. "What do you want to talk about instead?"

"Your motorcycle," she said slowly. "It looked as if you're going away for a while. Are you planning another journey abroad, Remus?"

"What? Oh," he laughed lightly. "No, nothing like that. It's just a hike, for a few days, really."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know," he lied. "Wherever the road takes me, I suppose."

"The road?" Narcissa lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "I _am_ aware what this machine can do, Remus."

"Figure of speech, Narcissa, nothing more," he smiled, relieved that the topic was shifting away from the trip he had planned.

In truth, the full moon was coming tonight and he always went away when that happened. He had drank his Wolfsbane potion diligently over the course of the past week, but he needed to be far from anything even remotely resembling civilization when the curse took over and turned him into a beast. Just in case.

And there was no way he could ever start explaining any of that to Narcissa.

He sighed. What was he even thinking, coming here? Narcissa seemed to be perfectly alright, with or without him. _Besides, I still have to go to the bank before taking off_.

* * *

Narcissa seemed a little surprised when he excused himself and left, but didn't comment on it. As the motorcycle roared to life and took flight, Remus let the wind wash over his chest and face, clearing his thoughts. The thoughts that were beginning to worry him and were highly inappropriate, all things considered. What could he ever hope to pursue with her anyway? He could almost taste the wolf's annoyance. _Weak. Afraid._ It sounded almost like it was mocking him.

The simple truth was that he had much more pressing matters to think about. Aside from the looming transformation tonight, there was always Wormtail, and that had led to his latest altercation with Snape. Getting himself infatuated with Lucius Malfoy's widow seemed like a bad, bad idea. _No. Padfoot's blood. Worthy mate_.

 _Oh, for Merlin's sake, SHUT UP!_ Remus wished that the Wolfsbane potion was also capable of silencing the monster's presence inside his mind. It was a wonder that he hadn't gone mad after all those years. _Yet._

If anything, the wolf's rumble sounded mildly amused.

* * *

He arrived at Gringotts very shortly before it closed for the day. The sun was already gone over the horizon and the evening had arrived, and that made him feel the usual unease, gnawing into his mind and making his bones ache. As he parked his motorcycle and prepared to head to the building, he was surprised to see Snape, dressed in that muggle blazer of his, storming out of the bank and apparating himself away. He never noticed Remus, and seemed to be in a hurry. _Huh?_ _What was that about?_ he wondered but shrugged inwardly. Even bungholes like him needed money, he supposed.

He walked into the bank and squinted until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He shook his head and went to the closest counter. The goblin clerk eyed him with a stare that seemed to transcend the difference in species. _What the fuck do_ you _want now_ , it said, _it's nearly the end of my shift_.

Or maybe he had been the one to accommodate Snape, in which case the sour mood was more understandable.

"Good evening," Remus nodded at him. "I would like to make a withdrawal from my vault. Sixty galleons, Remus Lupin," he said as he handed the key to the goblin.

It was better to have some money with him during his ordeal. Anything could happen, and it never hurt to be prepared.

"Very well," the goblin nodded and summoned an employee that was to descend to the maze of underground caverns that lay beneath the bank. "Would you like to extract your gold personally, Mr. Lupin?"

"No, it won't be necessary," he smiled, trying to put the banker at ease. "I'd only slow your man down. I'll wait here, if that's alright?"

"Certainly," the goblin sighed and nodded.

Remus answered with a nod of his own and stepped away from the counter. It was probably going to take at least ten or fifteen minutes before it was all done. _Well, with the way it's going, at some point I won't have to come here anymore._ His savings were almost entirely exhausted, and he had never been a rich man to begin with. And it was hard to find work when you were a werewolf. He had passed most of his N.E.W.T.s with good grades, but that mattered little when he had to give his medical history to any prospective employer. His pride scoffed at the idea, but maybe at some point he'd have to ask Dumbledore if there was some sort of a position he could take at Hogwarts. Remus doubted he'd make a teacher when taking his condition into consideration, but there were other things he could do.

And that was one more reason why he should stay away from Narcissa. She was, quite likely, the single most wealthy woman in the whole of Britain and he was barely scraping by, owning little more than the clothes on his back and Padfoot's bike. There was nothing that a piss-poor werewolf could offer her. _Nothing_. Suddenly, he wished that the fucking goblin would hurry up so he could have a damned smoke before he flew off to some remote wood where he could turn into a fucking monster and have it done with for the fucking month.

Then a movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head. What he saw made him frown. The two Aurors that had accompanied Snape at Margaret's house yesterday were coming up to the main floor from a passageway. Remus frowned. What was going on? An old, richly-dressed goblin was waddling before them. _Was Snape here on Ministry business?_ But if he was, why had he taken off so abruptly? The black-skinned Auror noticed Remus and she blinked in confusion at him. She leaned in and whispered something to her partner who scowled.

Then another goblin walked past Remus.

"There he is," the old goblin told the Aurors, diverting their attention from Lupin. "Carntog! Would you please be so kind as to come here, so we can have a talk?"

The goblin, Carntog, stopped in his tracks, just a few feet away from Remus. His body language betrayed... anxiety?

"I... I have to get to my office," he said hastily.

 _What the Hell is happening here?_

"Mr. Lupin!" a voice made him turn. The clerk he had spoken with earlier was staring at him expectantly, a small pouch sitting on the counter. "Your withdrawal."

Remus was just about to head there when he noticed something that chilled him to the bone.

A rat's snout was peeking at him from the half-opened pocket of Carntog's uniform.

A rat's snout that Remus could recognize everywhere.

"Wormtail?" he uttered under his breath. The rodent's small eyes went wide with terror.

He didn't even realize that he had started walking towards the goblin, ignoring the clerk's urging to come and get his money.

"I have to go to my office, please," Carntog was pleading with the Aurors who were also nearing him. They hadn't noticed the rat.

And then the explosion boomed all around them, the fiery light blinding Remus' eyes and making his ears feel as if they were about to bleed.

He stumbled back, groping for his wand. He backed into something short that let out a pained yelp. _A goblin_ , he thought dimly before he fell on the floor, trying to blink the white spots in front of his eyes away. Someone was screaming, a shrill, horrified sound. Everything seemed bathed in red smoke.

Before Remus could get to his feet, he saw something out of a nightmare.

One of the colossal crystal chandeliers that were hanging from the rafters of the bank was cut from most of its chains by what looked like a stray curse, a blast of blue energy.

With a monstrous creak, it swung heavily on the only chain that remained unbroken. For a split second nothing happened. Then the chandelier crashed down.

Remus cried out and rolled on the floor, trying to get away. The impact missed him, but barely. The sound was deafening. Shards of shattered crystal fell like rain all around him. The wolf was howling inside, _get up, get up, get up! Fight! Kill!_

Remus opened his eyes and prepared to do just that when he saw the moon.

The chandelier's fall had caused a portion of the ceiling to crumble down with it. And now the rays of the full moon were pouring over his prone body.

He screamed.

* * *

 _ **Message from Rinso:**_

 **Hey, guys. Hope that everyone is having a good time when reading this story. It's been a few months now, and yet it's far from over (which I think it's obvious, but still :) ).**

 **I do, however, have a tiny announcement to make. There will be a short hiatus, since I'm going on vacation and I won't be taking my computers with me. So the next update won't come before the end of the month, or maybe even the very beginning of August. We'll see how things go. So in case anyone would be wondering over the course of the next few weeks, no, the story is** _ **not**_ **being abandoned.**

 **Have a great summer, guys!**

 **Love to all,**

 **Rinso**

 **PS: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it was the best way to end this chapter.**

 **PPS: Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry at all, I'm an evil bastard :D**


End file.
